


Honeyed Apples

by vintagenoise



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha Castiel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bottom Dean, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Fingering, Flashbacks, Gardener Castiel, Intercrural Sex, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg, Multi, Omega Dean, Outdoor Sex, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Prince Dean, Prince Sam, Rimming, Top Castiel, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:58:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4643199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintagenoise/pseuds/vintagenoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Dean loses his way in the woods, just in time for his heat. Luckily, he finds Castiel, a gentle alpha with an unusual smell, an unusual gift, and a knack for taking care of vulnerable omegas. But as much as they end up liking each other, Dean is a prince. He can't go around getting mated to random hermits. Especially not when his father is already pushing every available alpha with a title at him, trying to keep an omega off the throne. Mating with Castiel is a nice fantasy, but Dean knows it would never actually work.</p><p>Until he finds out about the baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Freesia

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress! All tags, characters and pairings are subject to additions or changes as I figure this story out. I have a general plan, and thanks to [guyripley](http://guyripley.tumblr.com), I have a awesome ending, but getting there, well, is gonna happen how it happens :) It is also unbeta'd, though [aprettygirlandpie](http://aprettygirlandpie.tumblr.com) took a glance at it to help with some snarls! So all errors are mine and mine alone!

This is the stupidest thing Dean has ever done.

His brother had warned him. _You shouldn’t go out so close to your heat, Dean. You never know what’s going to happen, Dean._ But Dean hates the way everyone tries to smother him and keep him locked up, just because he’s an omega. It’s not like he can’t defend himself. Seriously, he’s the _crown prince of Winchester_. He’s been training with knights since he was big enough to hold a sword. That training didn’t suddenly disappear just because one morning when he was thirteen, he woke up in a puddle of his own slick .

And most of the time, Dean knows that Sam knows that. He knows that his mother knows that. Charlie, Jo, Benny, _everybody_ knows that.

But he gets moody near his heats. Is that such a crime?

Still. He should have at least asked Victor or some other beta to come with him. Then, at least they could escort him back to the safety of the castle, where he can ride out the next few days in peace.

Well. Relative peace.

But no. He’s stuck in the woods outside the fortress with no one but his beloved horse for company, and it’s not like poor Impala can do much for him in this state except carry him around while he tries to get his bearings. Between the fever and the erection, Dean’s dizzy and confused and useless. He can’t even remember how to direct Impala home, and even if he could remember, he’s not sure he’d have the energy to do so. His whole body feels heavy, covered in sweat, and he can’t focus on anything except trying to stay in his saddle. Even that’s become a challenge, especially with his trousers soaked through with slick.

Dean is vulnerable out here. Anyone could come along and use this situation to their advantage. All he’d wanted was a few hours alone, without anyone harping on him about meeting suitors and getting mated. Now, he’s stuck-

_Alpha._

Dean’s head jerks up, sharp enough to knock him off balance. The sudden movement startles Impala into stopping, but Dean hardly notices. He smells flowers and honey, earth and running water. These things on their own don’t necessarily make an alpha, but there are heady, musky notes underscoring these smells, and that _does_.

A fresh wave of slick trickles out of Dean and he whimpers helplessly. Impala nickers softly, picking up on his stress, but she dances on her hooves, unsure of where to go. Dean’s done for now. His instincts are howling for a knot, for touch and affection, and that alpha smell has set everything ringing like church bells in his head. His saner mind is well aware that this is a bad idea, that strange alphas can be dangerous, and this one may not be willing to cuddle and nurse him the way he needs, may only be interested in sticking his knot somewhere warm a few times. But his instincts don’t give a flying shit. _Alpha alpha alpha_ , they scream, and Dean sways in his seat, only just catching the sound of someone else ( _Alpha_!) gasping before he falls, and strong arms are there to catch him.

\-----

Castiel had always wondered if, someday, someone would eventually stumble upon his little cottage. He built it himself, set up the garden with seeds from the nearby village, and learned how to hunt, desperately wanting to just keep to himself as much as possible for the rest of his life. But after so many years being surrounded by his siblings and his fellow knights, being alone had been a difficult adjustment. On his lonelier days, he sits by the window with a mug of tea and hopes that someone will chance upon his garden, just so he could carry on a conversation with someone besides the bees.

They’re divine dancers, but they really don’t have much to say on the concept of fairy violence, or the murkier issue of dragon property rights.

So of course, it takes him by surprise when he’s out weeding the tomatoes, and he catches a whiff of a high-pitched, frantic scent. It’s sticky-sweet, almost cloying, and he recognizes it immediately. After so many years taking care of Anna, how could he not?

An omega in heat. A _stressed_ omega in heat.

Castiel frowns to himself and scents the air. The omega has a horse, but there’s no one else nearby. What omega in their right mind would come this far out when their heat is about to hit? They’re lucky they ran upon Castiel, who at least knows how to keep omegas cool and comfortable without using his knot. Another alpha may not be so kind.

Castiel grunts as he gets to his feet and inhales again, following the smell to its source. It becomes clearer the closer he gets, ripe fruit and a hint of something spicy, and his instincts perk up with interest. He grits his teeth and shoves that down, surprised at himself; he’s never had this trouble when he took care of omegas before. Granted, Anna is his sister, so of course he was less than interested in her scent, but those other omegas at the brothel hadn’t attracted his instincts that way.

Then again, he’d been so horrified by their conditions that maybe that overrode the rest. Their fear had been more palpable than anything else, and it’s hard to be aroused when struck by that electric scent.

For Castiel, at least.

This omega is afraid too, but it’s hidden behind the searing, heavy scent of his heat, and Castiel does a genuine double-take when he finds him. He’s finely dressed in scarlet and white and gold, his pitch-black horse fitted with jewels and a well-made saddle. His eyes are the same green in the sunlit trees around them, his face marked with freckles like spilled cinnamon. He looks healthy, for the most part. Just the ruddy fever-flush on his cheeks and neck, and his eyes are dull and unfocused. When he makes a soft noise and sways, Castiel gasps and rushes forward to catch him before he hits the ground. The horse whinnies and dances away, then comes back to press her nose against her master’s temple.

“Hello,” Castiel says softly. The horse twists her head to blink at him, then nudges his shoulder. “Will you follow me?”

She only stares at him, so Castiel nods and shifts the omega’s weight in his arms, holding his breath so as not to inhale too much of that delicious scent. It’s a futile effort; the omega will probably be holing up in his cottage, in his bed, until the worst of the heat passes, so he’ll be exposed to that scent for at least a day or two. But, if he can show restraint now, it gives him hope that he can continue to do so for as long as necessary.

The omega blinks blearily up at him before turning his nose into Castiel’s chest and inhaling his scent, making a soft noise in the back of his throat. He’s burning up, soaking through his clothes, and Castiel swallows, realizing he’ll have to undress him.

Hopefully he’ll come out of it enough to tell Castiel how to get him home soon.

Or a name. Castiel would settle for a name.

\-----

The next thing Dean remembers is waking up in an unfamiliar bed, with blankets piled up around him like a nest. Did he do that? He’s never been prone to nesting during his heats, but who knows?

He’s been stripped down to his underthings, and that’s what tips him off to the fact that he’s not alone. Dean would have just removed everything; even his socks get itchy and irritating when his entire body is lit up and looking to cook up some pups. But this person… an alpha, now that Dean thinks about it, he remembers an alpha that smelled like a garden… had wanted to make him comfortable, without making him uncomfortable. Waking up naked would’ve just freaked Dean out even more.

So it’s an oddly-sweet smelling alpha, who _probably_ doesn’t want to take advantage of him. And, as Dean rolls around trying to take off his undershirt, he finds that the alpha makes a pretty good nest. The blankets are soft and warm and covered in that honey-rose smell, and Dean’s instincts are purring. He’s not sated, he hasn’t been knotted, but just the _smell_ of this alpha makes his head feel a little clearer.

Is that weird? That’s probably weird.

Dean’s whole body still feels heavy and overly warm, but he manages to sit up, throwing his undershirt aside and taking a few deep breaths. That smell is embedded in the walls, and it’s overwhelming but makes it easier to breathe at the same time. Late afternoon sunlight is coming in through the windows, and when Dean hears the sound of humming and buzzing, he pricks his ears towards the open window.

“Are these good for you? I’m afraid I don’t know what horses eat.” The voice is muted, but even from this distance Dean can tell that it’s deep and rusty, like a growl. The alpha. Talking to… a horse? His Impala, maybe?

Great. Dean rubs a hand over his sweaty face and groans. He knew this was too good to be true. An alpha can be kind and build a pretty nest… but he can also talk to animals like they can understand a word he’s saying. Weirdo.

“He’s fine,” the alpha is saying. “He will be fine, at least. Heats are perfectly natural.”

Impala chirrs.

“I won’t hurt him. I swear.”

Impala harrumphs, and the alpha laughs softly. Dean slumps onto his back, safely enclosed in his nest, as footsteps approach the front door. They’re quiet, almost non-existent, especially once the front door opens and closes and those feet are walking on wood. Does his alpha not wear boots or sandals? Dean wants to sit up again and investigate, but he can feel another fierce fever coming, and it’s bringing exhaustion with it.

“Are you awake?” calls the alpha. Dean groans again, flipping over onto his side and closing his eyes. His fever is spiking, and that voice is twisting up his insides. “You need water.”

“Shut up,” Dean growls back, clutching his hands in his hair and trying to keep his hips from moving. His underpants are almost painful now, but with a strange alpha around, he doesn’t really feel comfortable taking them off.

Then, there’s a cool hand pressed against his forehead, and it feels so good that he whimpers, earning a soft shushing sound and fingers carding through his hair. It’s a nice reprieve, so Dean opens his eyes to finally see his strange, friendly alpha.

There’s a haze around him, but otherwise he looks pretty normal, for a guy who talks to horses. Dark hair, light eyes, handsome face, and fully-dressed in what looks like cotton and deerskin. Dean chuckles to himself, which makes the alpha pause.

“What’s so funny?”

Dean laughs again, and something in the alpha’s voice makes him want to roll over onto his back, but he manages to restrain himself. “You were talkin’ to my horse,” Dean says. “You talk to deer too?”

The alpha tilts his head in confusion, until Dean gestures at his trousers. “Ah. Well. It helps that deer aren’t very chatty. They’re actually kind of snobbish.”

Dean giggles outright, covering his face with his hands. This guy. This fucking guy. Dean likes him already. “And my horse, she’s,” he takes a deep breath, “she can hold a conversation?”

“She thinks very highly of you,” the alpha answers seriously. “And I’m starting to see why.”

Dean smothers the rest of his laughter with his palm and gasps, “That so?”

“Yes. If you’re able to follow this discussion during your heat, then you must be a very strong-willed omega.”

Dean sobers immediately, staring up at his alpha, who smiles gently back. Dean’s dad says stuff like that all the time, about Dean being strong-willed and bull-headed and unable to take orders, but he always says it like it’s a bad thing. This alpha doesn’t seem to mind, though.

Sweat breaks out on Dean’s forehead, upper lip, and chest. The alpha draws back in surprise, and Dean thinks he’s blushing, but then he’s too preoccupied with cramps and fever and the rush of slick and want. He can smell alpha everywhere, burying his nose in the nest of blankets around him and whining softly, reaching up and trying to grasp the alpha’s hand. He almost succeeds, his fingers brushing cool skin, but it’s gone before he can get a good grip on it, and he moans his displeasure.

“I know, I’m sorry,” comes a voice through the fog, soaking into his skin in a way that makes Dean want to bare his belly and his neck, and now he can’t stop himself from doing so. The alpha’s breath hitches, and Dean preens under the sound, stretching his arms over his head.

“I’ll, um,” the alpha’s voice is deeper, and Dean’s instincts purr, waiting to be pounced on. “I’ll give you some privacy. Remember to drink your water.”

The door slams. That honey-daisy alpha smell is limited to the old scents caught in the blankets and the wood of the cottage.

Dean mewls at this rejection and rolls over onto his stomach, sliding his underwear down to his knees. He’s alone. Refused by an _alpha_. In the middle of his heat. It shouldn’t hurt this much. Dean gets shot down by maids and knights alike all the time, and it rolls off him like nothing, but _this_ … it’s almost as bad as the first time he swam out a little too far from the shoreline and got his chest clawed by a kappa. Salt water in open wounds that didn’t heal properly and almost got infected, because fucking dirty kappa don’t know how to clean out their claws.

It has to be the heat affecting him. Getting into his head and making him far too attached to this strange savior alpha.

So Dean shoves his fingers into his slick hole and cries into the blankets, shivering and writhing until he comes, and falls asleep.

\-----

Castiel’s heart is pounding as he digs through his garden, trying to focus on anything that isn’t the pathetic, beautiful omega in his bed, or the way his instincts are howling for a bite of that pretty neck. Castiel is _better_ than this. He’s better than the fantasies blinking through his brain, of the omega’s legs wrapped around his waist, of the two of them dozing, tangled together in that ridiculous nest he made.

He made a _nest_. That was such a stupid thing to do, but the urge to take care of a distraught and nervous omega had overwhelmed him. Granted, it’s better to give into those instincts than the other ones, but it’s still embarrassing.

Not that the omega had seemed to mind. If Castiel remembers correctly, the scent of an alpha can help an omega in heat, and his little foundling had actually come around on his own once surrounded by soft, warm blankets and the odor of… whatever it is Castiel smells like.

It’s hard being inside though. Out here in the sunshine is easier, but Castiel is starting to wonder if he shouldn’t try again to convince Impala to carry the omega home on her back. Unfortunately, that horse is as stubborn as a bull. She’s more afraid of her master losing his balance and falling in the middle of the woods than she is of Castiel doing something to hurt him. Even her interrogation earlier had seemed like an obligation, done because she thought she should and not because Castiel really needed to hear it.

That’s nice, at least. Castiel has always liked knowing that animals trust him. And Impala is behaving herself, staying out of his garden and nibbling on the grass outside his gate. She’s a silent presence as he piles carrots and tomatoes into his basket, trying to decide if smoked venison would be too much for the omega’s sensitive stomach.

Castiel swallows and gets to his feet. He really should go back inside and see how the omega is holding up, but he doesn’t want to walk in on anything. That spicy apple scent is difficult enough to handle on its own, but the way the omega tries to lure Castiel in… He keeps telling himself, it’s only instinct, it doesn’t mean anything, but that doesn’t do much to convince his own instincts not to respond.

Impala whinnies, drawing Castiel’s attention. He blinks at her, then offers up a smile.

“Don’t worry about him, I told you. He’s in good hands.”

She stomps a hoof in the grass, glaring at him with one baleful brown eye.

“I’m trying to put together a nice dinner, he needs to eat-”

She chirrs and shakes her head. Castiel rolls his eyes and adjusts his basket under his arm.

“Fine. I’ll go check on him. But if I walk in on something-”

Her nostrils flare as she shakes her head again, dancing near the gate until Castiel waves his free hand at her and makes his way to the door. He catches a whiff of the omega’s scent as he passes the open front window, and he hums softly. The most recent wave of heat has apparently passed, thank the Gods, so Castiel pushes the door open and calls out, “Are you decent?”

“Fuck off,” the omega groans. Castiel smiles to himself, and takes the basket to the kitchen.

“Are you hungry? I have some venison stored away, if you’re hungry enough for that, or I can just make us a nice, cool-”

“Don’t need food,” the omega interrupts. Castiel hesitates, then turns to look at the nest. His cottage is all one room, the kitchen and living and sleeping areas blending into one another. It’s easy for him to get around when he’s alone, and now it’s easy for him to keep an eye on his company.

“I think you do need food.”

“You don’t get to boss me around.” With this declaration, the omega actually sits up and manages to glare at Castiel, who is impressed despite himself. “Not my alpha. You rejected me.”

Castiel tilts his head. He never rejected- oh. The omega left himself vulnerable, bared his neck and arched his back and smiled, and Castiel walked away. Now that Castiel thinks to look for it, he smells tears underneath the scent of come and heat, and he takes a few steps towards the bed, ashamed that he’d acted so carelessly. He knows better than this.

Omegas in heat are sensitive. This one seems like he would deny it to the ends of the earth, but it’s still true. They need constant care and affection, to feel needed even as they need someone else to ensure their comfort. In this sense, Castiel failed his omega. They don’t need knots, necessarily - most omegas, in Castiel’s experience, use toys or their own hands when the fever peaks - but they do need the attention. Touch. Petting. Constant confirmation that they are safe and adored.

Castiel _knows_ this. Why did he ignore it?

As he approaches the nest, he realizes that the omega is naked, and it stops him in his tracks. His cock takes a sudden interest in the situation, and there’s no way for Castiel to hide that. It’s apparent in his scent, from the way the omega’s nostrils flare and his lips curve into an arrogant smirk.

“I’m not going to knot you,” Castiel says when the omega leans back on his hands and pushes his chest forward. “You can stop trying.”

“What if I want you to?”

“You don’t mean it. You’re heat-drunk. I can’t take advantage of that.”

The omega’s shoulders drop, his mouth forming a soft, pretty pout. “Is there something wrong with me?”

Why does Castiel keep fucking this up? “No! No, of course not. It’s not _you_ , it’s just…” He sighs, taking the last few steps to the bed and sitting down outside the pile of blankets. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The omega scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Like you’re my first knot.”

Something angry and possessive flares in Castiel’s chest, but he takes a deep breath and pushes it aside. “That’s not what I mean. You don’t… you can’t…” Castiel sighs, trying to gather his thoughts, but there’s no point. In this state of mind, the omega won’t care about concepts like ‘consent.’ Castiel will just have to hold onto his morals, and hope that everything will be understood on the other side of this debacle. “You haven’t even told me your name,” Castiel decides to say instead.

The omega blinks at him, his gaze unfocused and pupils blown. Slowly, he leans forward, until his bare chest is pressed against Castiel’s shoulder, and he rests his forehead against Castiel’s neck.

“You a romantic?” the omega slurs, breathing slowly. Castiel hesitates, then lifts his hand to press against the omega’s face, ears, whatever skin he can reach while still maintaining their dignity.

“You can call it that,” Castiel whispers back.

The omega is quiet for a long while. His skin is scorching and damp against Castiel’s, but he doesn’t move. Touch used to placate other omegas too, especially Anna, so Castiel lets the boy take a moment of reprieve, gently pressing his palms and fingertips wherever he can reach.

Finally, the omega mumbles something, and Castiel pauses his movements. “What was that?”

“Dean,” the omega breathes. “My name is Dean.”

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says with a smile. “I’m Castiel. And I’m going to take good care of you.”

\-----

The night passes slowly, with Dean’s heats coming and going in increasingly torturous waves. True to his word, Castiel does what he can to keep Dean comfortable, be it cleaning sweat from Dean’s skin with a cool cloth, or giving Dean little sips of water when his throat is dry, or simply petting his hair while Dean squirms and tries not to beg Castiel to just fuck him already.

Holding that back gets harder every time.

Dean is trying to respect Castiel’s decision, he really is. But all he wants is to be held down and knotted and knocked up, and he’s pretty sure that during his less lucid moments, he may have actually asked for those things. Or pleaded. Whined. Those might be better words for it.

Dean’s not proud of himself right now.

In his defense, he’s not normally like this during his heats. He normally passes them… not quite _peacefully_ , but he takes care of his needs and doesn’t need much more than a few visits from his mother or Sam, for a little familial cuddling. Granted, the only alphas who are normally in the castle around this time are related to Dean, or are already mated, so maybe this is just a reaction to the very un-related and un-mated alpha who took him in. Heat is about wanting to mate and have pups. It’s probably going to be easier to stand if there are no available alphas around, right?

Dean sleeps in fits, and wakes up starving. It’s finally light out, at least, and for the moment his hunger is more pressing than his heat, so he sits up, panting from the effort, and tries to wipe the sweat from his brow. Castiel is nowhere to be seen, which means he’s outside in the garden. Dean takes a few more slow, deep breaths, trying to quiet the heavy pounding of his heart, and directs his listening towards the open window.

He can hear Impala snuffling around outside, and the sound of buzzing and humming. He hasn’t seen Castiel’s garden, but as much time as Castiel spends outside, it must be beautiful. Full of flowers and bees, which probably explains the alpha’s weird smell. Dean wonders which came first, the smell or the garden, and takes a moment to daydream about pulling Castiel close enough to get a whiff of his scent gland, straight from the source. Slick leaks out of him at the same time his stomach rumbles, and he groans in frustration.

“Dean?” comes Castiel’s voice. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” Dean manages to croak out, only then realizing that he’s thirsty as well. Castiel appears in the window, peering at him.

“Are you lucid?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I’m answering your questions, aren’t I?”

Castiel shrugs. “Yes, but we need to be careful today. I don’t want to be too close when you peak.”

Castiel knows an awful lot about heats for an alpha, and Dean is curious as to how he learned it all. It’s true, Dean’s heat should peak today, and when it does, it’ll be a rough few hours that he probably won’t remember because his instincts will take over. Castiel being within scenting distance has already dragged some embarrassing moments out of Dean, and it’ll only be worse once he peaks. Gods forbid Castiel get within touching distance. And who knows how Castiel’s instincts will react? He’s been good so far, and he does know a lot about heats and how to treat an omega dealing with one, but the whole point of this cycle is to make healthy pups. Dean’s instincts might bring out Castiel’s, and if that happens, they’re really in trouble.

“I haven’t peaked yet,” Dean says. “I want to eat.”

“Water too?”

“Yes, please.”

Castiel smiles at that and makes his way inside. His footsteps are still quiet when he walks through the cottage, grabbing a large jug and handing that off to Dean, who drinks it gratefully. The water out here is fresh and sweet in a way that Dean never gets at home, and he knows that’s not the heat talking. They use wells in the village and inside the fortress, so the water back home is often gritty and murky. There must be running water nearby.

“Drink slow,” Castiel warns when Dean has been gulping for a little too long. “You’ll get sick. Little sips will be fine.”

Dean lowers the jug and winks at Castiel. “Whatever you say, alpha.”

Castiel levels him with narrowed eyes, and turns away without responding. Dean hides his laughter by taking another sip of water.

He manages to finish half a plate of scrambled eggs and a small piece of smoked ham before his stomach starts cramping again. The heat is content at a simmer for the time being, so when Dean asks for a back rub, Castiel obliges. Rough, strong fingers dig into Dean’s muscles until he purrs and slumps over onto his stomach, dozing happily.

And maybe he’s hearing things, but Dean’s pretty sure that’s Castiel’s rusty purr hiding under his own.

“You’re such a good alpha,” Dean mumbles into the blankets. The hands on his back pause, just for a moment, before digging in even deeper, and yup, that’s definitely an alpha purr going on back there. Dean smiles to himself and shifts his shoulderblades. “Taking care of your omega like this, look how satisfied I am thanks to you-” He cuts himself off with a yelp when Castiel pinches the soft flesh below his ribs. “What the-?”

“Stop teasing me,” Castiel scolds, but when Dean turns to look at him, there’s amusement glinting in those blue eyes, and Dean can’t help smiling back.

“Not teasing. I mean it.” Dean rolls over onto his back and stretches his arms up, arching his spine. He doesn’t miss the way Castiel swallows and averts his eyes, and while Dean likes knowing that Castiel isn’t completely unaffected by him, he still moves to cover himself a little better. “I couldn’t ask for a better partner during a heat.”

Castiel blinks at him. Takes a breath. Turns away. And turns back. “Have you had partners during heats before?”

Dean snorts. Like his dad would allow _that_ to happen. It’s hard enough getting any noble-alphas to look at Dean twice when he’s so insistent on training with his knights until his fingers blister, or running off to hunt banshees for days on end. Several of Dean’s potential suitors have already (rightly) questioned his “ _innocence_ ,” and Dean’s not above exaggerating his experiences just to drive them away. No one wants a used omega.

And even those who might forgive those indiscretions, because Dean is young and fertile and pretty, may not forgive him for bearing another alpha’s pups. There’s a good reason only mated or related alphas are allowed in the castle during Dean’s heats, and it’s certainly not for Dean’s comfort.

But Dean is fighting all of that as best he can, and Castiel is still waiting for an answer. There’s only one reason he’d even ask something like that, but Dean is pretty sure that even if he lied, Castiel wouldn’t hold it against him.

“Nah,” Dean answers softly. “I don’t have a lot of choices as far as mating goes.” Which, honestly, isn’t that far from the truth. Dean can fight it as much as he wants, but if John chooses a mate for him, then that’s that.

Both of Castiel’s eyebrows rise to his hairline as he tilts his head. “I don’t believe that. Unless you live in a very, very tiny village, I find it impossible to believe there aren’t alphas falling at your feet.”

Dean grins helplessly, draping an arm over his eyes. “That’s sweet, but that’s not what I meant.” His heat is starting to flicker through his bloodstream again, sweat gathering at his temples, but it’s still early. Mostly just a pleasant burn, if not a little insistent.

“What did you mean?” Castiel presses. He leans forward, and Dean’s nerves spark all along that side of his body, making his muscles twitch. That burn jumps up to an inferno before Dean can even process it, and the next thing he knows, he’s drenched in sweat and slick again, panting and writhing and kicking the blankets away because the heat is consuming. He whimpers, rolling onto his stomach and pulling his knees underneath his body.

“Dean,” and that’s Castiel’s voice, striking through the haze. Cool hands grasp Dean’s shoulders, trying to pull him up, but Dean shakes them off with a whine. He’s presenting for his alpha, but his alpha doesn’t want him. Again. _Again_. Dean sobs softly, reaching his hand back and slipping a finger inside his slick hole, not caring that Castiel is still sitting next to him, trying to figure out how he can help Dean without succumbing to his own instincts.

Dean steps up to two fingers easily enough, dropping his forehead to the bed and groaning softly, moving his hips against the movements of his hand. Icy fingers press gently against his neck, and Dean moans again, even though he wants that hand to hold him down and keep him steady while a knot works its way inside him. Soft touches serve their own purpose though, especially when they trail down Dean’s spine, stopping just a few inches short of where he’s breached himself.

He can feel slick dripping down the backs of his thighs, and he switches to three fingers, knuckle-deep. It’s not enough, it’s not _big_ enough, but Castiel won’t knot him and there’s no one else around, so Dean repositions himself and starts massaging his own prostate. He’s making delirious, animalistic noises, and Castiel’s hands pause near his waist, before lifting themselves off his skin, but Dean whines so pitifully that soon Castiel’s touch has returned, firm and soothing. It’s not as good as it would be if Castiel would just fucking _mount_ him already, but at least, if Castiel is here, then he doesn’t find Dean’s scent repulsive. He hasn’t completely rejected Dean as a potential mate.

Dean tilts his head to take a deep breath, and is assaulted with the heady scent of aroused alpha. Castiel’s honey-rose smell lit up with firewood and musk, and Dean hums his pleasure. Yes. He can handle this instead of a knot. For now. Castiel is interested, he smells _very_ interested… he’s just playing it safe. He wants to take care of his omega. He is a _good_ _alpha_. Dean inhales again, makes a soft little gasping noise as he rolls his hips, rubs at the little bundle of nerves inside him. Castiel curses, moves his hands to Dean’s hair, and Dean smiles, twisting to try and encourage those hands closer to his face. He’d prefer the scent glands near Castiel’s jaw, the ones that exude pheromones, but the wrists have a more subtle gland, and that smell is going to get Dean through this.

With the way heat works, Dean tends to forget about his cock in lieu of attempting to fill the emptiness in his hole. It’s heavy and angry red, leaking onto the bed, and since presenting clearly hasn’t broken through Castiel’s impeccable self-control, Dean lays himself flat on his stomach and starts to grind against the blankets. The friction against his sensitive cock is heaven, and Dean pants, his free hand fumbling around until he finally, _finally_ , gets a hold of Castiel’s arm.

“Dean?” Castiel whispers, but Dean can’t respond, too caught up in the intensity of his heat. All he can manage is to keep fucking himself back on his fingers, forward against the bed, gasping softly and clumsily pressing Castiel’s hand against his face. The touch is cool on his eyes and lips, but mostly he wants that smell. Unlike any other sweaty, greasy alpha he’s smelled before, this alpha smells _sweet,_ and isn’t that _perfect_? Isn’t he the _sweetest_ alpha Dean has ever met?

Castiel seems to catch on at this point. He leans over to grip Dean’s shoulder while his other hand carefully traces the curves of Dean’s face, allowing him smell and touch at the same time. And, as if to prove that he is the greatest alpha in the entire world, Castiel actually dips down low enough to whisper against Dean’s ear. “You’re doing so good,” he says, and a purr rips its way through Dean’s chest. “You’re so good, you’re close aren’t you?” Yeah, yeah, Dean’s so close, he’s chasing the end of it now, and with Castiel’s smell and touch and voice right here, this might be the closest thing to satisfaction Dean’s body has felt since this whole fiasco started.

“Please,” Dean whimpers, and Castiel makes a strangled noise before roughly dragging his hand through Dean’s hair, almost tugging at it. Dean gasps, pushing back onto his fingers, and begs again, over and over until it all runs together, “ _Pleasepleasepleaseplease_ ,” and something must snap in Castiel, because that sound’s not a purr. It’s a _growl_. And his touch is hardly gentle when it grips Dean’s hair, pulling until Dean’s neck is stretched taut, and suddenly, Castiel’s nose is pressed against Dean’s scent gland, inhaling deeply. When he growls again, a dark, possessive sound, that’s it. That’s all she wrote. Dean comes there and then, an embarrassing high-pitched noise wrenching it’s way from the back of his throat as visions dance through his head: teeth piercing the skin of his neck, leaving a mark for the whole world to see, and a sweet, apologetic alpha nuzzling the bruise and leaving kisses on his shoulders while they wait for the knot to go down.

A dark-haired, blue-eyed alpha who smells like honey and garden flowers.

Dean inhales sharply, lifting his head to meet a set of wide blue eyes. His mind is clear now, but he can feel the heat still licking at his insides. When he pulls his fingers out of his hole, they’re drenched in slick, and Castiel’s eyes darken when that smell becomes too strong.

Still, Castiel recoils. He leans back, almost jerking his hand away from Dean’s skin, staring at the omega in horror. Dean manages a weak smile, but it doesn’t help. Castiel almost jumps to his feet, knocking his chair back, and his eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape. He shifts his weight, and when Dean realizes that Castiel is about to run, a terrible whine rips its way from his throat.

Before Dean has the chance to be embarrassed, Castiel freezes. He stares at Dean again, lips parted in surprise. Dean can’t blame him: what a horrible, pathetic sound, and coming from an omega, no less.

“I can’t…” Castiel begins, but his voice disappears. He takes a deep breath and runs both hands through his hair, pacing next to the bed. “Dean, you’re…”

“Stay.” The word hangs in the air as Castiel’s hands drop, as all the fight seems to go out of him. Still, he hesitates, so Dean shifts, trying to push himself up, but he can’t. The heat is starting to burn again, his cock is already hard, and Castiel’s hands twitch at his sides. “Please.”

Castiel hesitates again, but only briefly. Within a few seconds, he rights the chair, and slumps down into it, staring at Dean. “Are you going to…” His face flushes pink, and he gestures lewdly with his fingers, “Again?”

Dean huffs, hips twitching against the mattress. “Only thing that helps. ‘less you wanna jump in…?”

Castiel twists away, struggling to control his breathing. “I… I shouldn’t…”

“Kiddin’,” Dean gasps, clutching at the blankets as slick starts to leak down his thighs again. “Just stay where I can smell you, ‘kay?”

Silence fills the cabin, broken only by Dean’s soft noises. He’s holding out, giving Castiel a chance to break away if he really needs to. But then, cool fingers brush Dean’s ears, down his neck, between his shoulder blades, before returning to rub gently at his scent gland, pulling a rough groan from Dean’s throat.

“Okay.” Castiel’s voice rumbles through Dean’s skin, dark and smooth and soothing. “I’ll stay.”

They settle in for a very long, very frustrating afternoon.

\-----

Dean’s peak lasts for hours. He comes and cries and can’t find satisfaction, until eventually, he passes out, his cock still angry red and hard. It’s a tough fight, but Castiel manages to restrain himself this time, limiting himself to above-the-waist touches, avoiding all sensitive areas, and occasionally allowing Dean to scent his wrists.

Castiel never knew he had this kind of self-control. His own cock is throbbing painfully, and he’s desperate for a taste of Dean’s slick, to know if he tastes as incredible as he smells… but thinking about it just makes it worse, and he refuses to take advantage of Dean. The omega is _asleep_ , by the Gods, asleep and in _heat_.

Castiel clenches his fists and gets to his feet. A little fresh air will do him some good.

The night is clear and still, enough that Castiel can hear the brook babbling nearby. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to clear the smell of Dean from his brain. The smell of flowers and herbs works wonders, and Castiel ventures out into his garden, laying on his back in the grass to watch the stars.

For a moment, he allows himself to fantasize about having Dean here next to him. Lucid and laughing as Castiel attempts to explain the names of the constellations in the sky, only to be distracted by the ones that decorate Dean’s skin.

They could be happy together, Castiel thinks. He doesn’t know where Dean is from, what his family is like, but if such a beautiful, strong omega as Dean can’t find a mate there, then who’s to tell Castiel not to dream?  He’s taking good care of Dean. He has his own little cottage that he built with his own two hands, and he can easily provide for two. If they end up with pups, then it’s easy to add on to the cottage, develop a larger garden. There is plenty of space in the woods.

Castiel sighs, draping an arm over his eyes. What a beautiful, impossible dream. It’s best to stay away from thoughts like those, especially when the vision of Dean swollen and glowing with pups is enough to make Castiel’s waning erection stir again. Why would Dean leave his family and the village he grew up in for solitude in the woods? For an alpha he knows nothing about?

There’s no point in even thinking about mating Dean.

Castiel dozes off in the garden, but when Impala whinnies and startles him awake, it’s still dark. The stars have moved, so it must have been at least an hour or two, but he could have used a little more sleep. He turns to glare at the horse, but she nickers in annoyance, tossing her head.

“Castiel?”

He jumps, twisting to see Dean leaning out the open window. Damp hair sticks to his forehead, but his eyes are bright and there’s no visible flush to his skin, so the peak of his heat must have finally passed. They’re not quite in the clear yet, but Castiel still smiles and gets to his feet, brushing grass off his clothes and out of his hair as he approaches the window.

“Hello, Dean,” he says. “Did you sleep well?”

Dean shrugs. “Better than you did, I bet.”

“The ground is soft and the flowers are comforting,” Castiel argues, but Dean just rolls his eyes. “I didn’t want to impose on you.”

“It’s hardly imposing.” Dean rests his arms on the windowsill and gives Castiel a lazy, flirtatious grin. “In fact, I got up to invite you to join me.”

Castiel blinks, and ends up blushing when those silly, domestic little fantasies start to flicker through his brain again. Sharing a bed, sleeping next to a warm body all night… Castiel hadn’t realized how lonely he was out here until Dean appeared. Sure, the animals and the bees make for decent conversation, but it’s not quite the same as being around other people.

Maybe it’s better for Dean to head back to his home after this.

Maybe Castiel could go with him.

But that’s ridiculous. He can’t ask for that. This is an accident and nothing more. Dean has his own life, and Castiel will be just a blip in it. And it’s for the better that Castiel avoid people, after all--

A very warm finger taps against Castiel’s forehead, and he jumps, startled by the touch. Dean laughs, and reaches out to grab Castiel’s wrist. “You’re thinking awfully hard about a very simple question. Come to bed.”

Castiel turns his head, unable to match Dean’s smile. “I shouldn’t,” he says quietly, thinking of all the ways that this idea could go wrong, the ways that Dean could come to resent him, that Castiel could come to resent himself. More than he already does. He’s already proven himself prone to weakness, scenting Dean like that. Like mates.

Dean tugs at Castiel’s wrist, and when Castiel finally looks at him, that bright smile has faded somewhat. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t trust you,” Dean says softly.

“You shouldn’t trust me,” Castiel counters. “You shouldn’t trust any alphas.”

“Other alphas don’t have your god-like self-control,” Dean chuckles, gently dragging his thumb over the inside of Castiel’s wrist. “I’m impressed with you. I mean that. I have a few alpha friends, and I love them, but I can’t say that they wouldn’t give into the temptation you’ve managed to avoid.”

Castiel furrows his brow. Where is Dean from that an omega can get to know alphas and consider them friends? Especially if he couldn’t trust them around his heats?

Dean grins and shakes his head, as if he can read Castiel’s mind. “They’re all mated, or they’re my brother, so they’re not _really_ a threat.” He shrugs playfully. “To me, or to you.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Castiel hisses.

“Like what?”

“Like we’re mated.”

Dean cocks an eyebrow. “You sayin’ you wouldn’t mate me if I asked?”

“You can’t ask. You’re in heat.”

“Don’t mean I don’t know what I want.” Dean’s grip on Castiel’s wrist tightens, his flesh almost painfully warm. But his eyes are clear, so Castiel allows himself a sliver of hope as Dean continues, “I want you to come to bed and sleep next to me. I know how your alpha might react if I get another heat wave, and I accept that. Hell,” Dean grins, “I might even want it.”

Damned if Castiel doesn’t want it too. Dean is clear-headed now, but his skin is still so warm, and Castiel knows that by morning, they both might be answering to little more than their instincts.

Damn it all.

“All right,” Castiel says. Dean’s expression brightens. “Go lie down. I’ll join you in a moment.”

“I won’t sleep until you’re there,” Dean warns, releasing Castiel’s wrist to poke a finger in his chest. Then he winks and turns to crawl back into the bed, and Castiel has to look away, because the omega is still naked and this is too much to process at once. A beautiful naked omega inviting Castiel into his bed… It’s like something out of a dream.

Castiel rubs at his temples and takes a few deep breaths to clear his head. Dean’s scent still lingers at the window, and, as if to confirm his utter weakness, that’s what drives Castiel to step inside the cottage, strip out of his clothes and climb into the bed behind Dean.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Dean mumbles, sounding incredibly pleased with himself. Castiel huffs and reaches to pull a blanket over them, only for Dean to kick it away. “If you’re cold, c’mere.”

He shifts back, pressing his shoulderblades against Castiel’s chest. Castiel gasps, that warm expanse of skin almost too much to bear, but Dean hums softly and reaches to pull Castiel’s arm around his waist, keeping him close. “I could use a little cold,” Dean yawns, nestling into Castiel’s arms like he belongs there, and Castiel really doesn’t want to think about that. Just like he doesn’t want to think about Dean’s ass pressed up against his groin.

But, he does allow himself to subtly scent at Dean’s neck, nuzzling the nape, until he falls asleep.

\-----

Bad idea. _Really_ bad idea.

Castiel wakes up to the incredible sensation of Dean grinding back against him, mewling and writhing as his fever peaks again.

Seriously. The worst idea Castiel has ever gone along with.

Dean is lightning- hot, his skin sparking everywhere Castiel touches him, and Castiel is torn between tearing himself out of bed, away from temptation, and pulling Dean closer, rutting against him until they both come.

“ _Alpha_ ,” Dean gasps, and Castiel’s hips jerk forward of their own accord, slip-sliding between Dean’s cheeks thanks to the slick that’s dripping out of him. Dean moans outright, tilting his head back until it’s nestled under Castiel’s chin. His scent gland is right there, so close that Castiel can’t smell anything but caramel and apples and cinnamon. It’s an inescapable cloud of this _perfect_ scent, and Castiel can’t help leaning forward to press his nose into it, inhaling sharply. His hips jerk again, and he growls, wrapping his arms around Dean’s torso.

“You planned this,” he accuses, lips pressed to fevered skin. A vibration starts to roll from Dean’s chest up through his neck, and from that pleased little purr, Castiel knows he guessed correctly. He rolls his hips again, a perfect slide that’s almost as good as actually being inside Dean. “Naughty boy.”

Dean’s breath hitches, but Castiel can see the corner of his mouth twitching up as he reaches back to pet Castiel’s hair. “Always get what I want,” Dean whispers, tugging at the strands. It’s Castiel who gasps this time, surprised that an omega in heat could be so cheeky. A switch flips inside Castiel at this cocky little taunt, and before he can stop himself, he’s rolling Dean onto his stomach and pinning him down, nipping at his neck and shoulder.

“Spoiled,” Castiel mutters, but Dean is still purring, louder now, his back thrumming against Castiel’s chest. He tries to lift his hips under Castiel’s weight, trying to present, and Castiel shudders at the thought, memories of yesterday afternoon flooding through him. Watching Dean’s fingers slide in and out of his hole had been unbelievable, like a vivid hallucination, and Castiel desperately wants to repeat the experience. Maybe do it himself, get Dean nice and ready for his knot, so he can-

Castiel gasps, pushing himself up and away from Dean’s body, ignoring the little whimper Dean makes at the loss. “No,” Castiel says, shaking his head, covering his mouth and nose with one hand. It’s an attempt to dampen Dean’s overwhelming scent, and it fails when he realizes that he’s been touching Dean’s skin, and that caramel-apple smell is now embedded in his palms. Dean has laid a claim on him, knowingly or not, and Castiel moans softly, dropping his hand again. “Dean, we can’t-”

“Please, alpha,” Dean begs, tilting his head, fixing Castiel with one pleading green eye. “Please, I need it, need you, need your knot.” He lifts his hips again, where Castiel’s cock is still trapped between his cheeks, and Castiel bites back another moan. “Please, it’s okay, I want you, I want it, I _want_ -”

Castiel presses his hand between Dean’s shoulderblades, pinning the omega again. Dean stops talking, immediately submissive, and a hesitant purr starts back up again. “You don’t mean that,” Castiel says softly. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

A muscle twitches in Dean’s jaw, and that’s when Castiel realizes, Dean’s vision is focused on him. _Focused_. And Dean had sassed him only a few moments ago. Dean is lucid. Maybe not entirely, but enough that he can follow the conversation, recognize Castiel’s reservations… and actually be _annoyed_ by them.

“Damn you,” Dean actually _growls_. Castiel draws back in surprise; no omega in heat should be able to curse their alpha, let alone growl. Hell, it’s hard enough to believe that a perfectly lucid and healthy omega could do so. Despite his shock, something like desire rolls through Castiel’s chest, but it’s not quite physical. It’s not an urge to slip inside Dean and fuck him until he pops a knot (though that’s not to say that Castiel doesn’t want to do that too).

He wants to keep Dean. He _likes_ that Dean can fight back, likes that Dean can joke and tease through his heat. He likes _Dean_ , and he wants to keep him and get to know him better.

But he can’t do that. He can’t mate Dean unless Dean wants to be mated. He can’t ask Dean to stay just because heat can addle an alpha’s brain almost as bad as an omega’s. He’s not even sure if he feels comfortable knotting Dean when he’s clearly still fevered, still heavily influenced by his hormones.

Castiel slowly moves his hips forward, the head of his cock catching on Dean’s rim. Dean gasps and jerks back against the friction, whimpering softly. “Alpha,” Dean says, closing his eyes and baring his neck. “Please.”

Castiel leans down to scent Dean’s neck, to nuzzle and nip at the offered skin. “No,” he whispers back. “I’m not going to knot you.”

Dean growls again, immediately attempting to push back against Castiel’s weight, but Castiel catches him, pins him again, and bites at the nape of his neck. It’s not hard, mostly a warning, but Dean stills anyway. “What’s my name?” Castiel murmurs against Dean’s skin.

“Alpha,” Dean gasps, fidgeting. “Plea-”

Castiel nibbles at his neck again, and the word trails off into a groan. “Not alpha,” Castiel says. “Say my name.”

Dean wiggles under Castiel’s weight, huffing softly, before finally relaxing. “Cas,” he whispers. He shifts his head and meets Castiel’s eyes again. “Castiel.”

“Good boy,” Castiel says, pressing kisses up the line of Dean’s neck, under his ear, over his cheekbone. Then, and only then, does Castiel sit up and change his position. He’s still not going to knot Dean, not until Dean can explicitly tell him that it’s all right to do so, but he can still do _something_.

He lifts Dean’s hips, not quite high enough to present, and presses Dean’s thighs tight together. Dean allows himself to be moved without complaint, and this show of trust and submission just lights Castiel up inside, brings all those unobtainable dreams forward again. For these few, stolen moments, Dean is Castiel’s omega, and Castiel is Dean’s alpha. They may as well be mated, and Castiel lets himself be taken by the fantasy as he slides his cock into the space between Dean’s thighs.

Dean squirms at the sensation, but he stills when one of Castiel’s hands grips at his hip, and he moans softly when the head of Castiel’s cock presses up against his balls. Dean relaxes into the bed again, a little smile on his face, as Castiel continues these ministrations, building up a rhythm.

“This is okay?” Castiel manages, trying to press Dean’s legs even tighter, give himself better friction. Dean nods frantically, biting his lip and clutching at the blanket closest to his head. Castiel thrusts again, hard enough to drive Dean’s hips back to the bed, and Dean gasps at the friction against his own dick. Castiel smiles at this, and leans forward, pressing his forehead against Dean’s back. “What’s my name?”

Dean gives up a breathy laugh. “Castiel,” he answers again, and he’s actually smirking when Castiel lifts his head. “What’s mine?”

Surprised, Castiel laughs as well. He grinds up against Dean’s slick thighs until the omega groans again, then nibbles along the nape of Dean’s neck. “Dean,” he responds, voice low and rumbling. “Don’t tease.”

Dean actually manages to lift himself up onto his elbows, fixing Castiel with a smug grin. “‘m not the one teasing,” he says. “Knot me, alpha?”

Instantly, Castiel flattens his palm on Dean’s back and pushes him back down onto the bed. The omega goes easily, practically beaming, like even if he’s not being knotted, he’s still getting exactly what he wants. “Maybe later,” Castiel breaths, leaving kisses along the curve of Dean’s shoulders. “If your heat goes away.”

“Or doesn’t,” Dean grunts, his breath hitching as Castiel thrusts pick up speed.

Words fade away as they both focus on chasing the end. Castiel’s knot is starting to swell, slapping against Dean’s thighs, and Dean becomes more eager, more slippery, torn between pleasing his alpha, and seeking friction for himself, stimulation to get off to.

Castiel manages to keep his head as his knot pops to its full size. When he hits his orgasm, the urge to bite comes with it, and he bites down hard on the blanket piled up next to Dean’s head. Dean watches with blown pupils, his breath coming short, and his own hips thrust back against Castiel’s knot, down against the blanket, until finally he comes. The sound that wrenches out of his throat is so feral and wanton that Castiel releases again, bites again, and the bed and blankets and Dean’s legs are an absolute wreck.

After a moment, Castiel rolls off of Dean, almost subconsciously rubbing at his knot to try and and milk the rest of his orgasms out. Dean dozes, a little smile on his face, and when Castiel touches his shoulder, his skin is soft and cool.

About fifteen minutes later, Castiel sits up, heavy with satisfaction and covered in his own come. He nudges Dean with an elbow. “I need to clean you up,” he says. Dean wraps his arms around the nearest blanket and stubbornly nestles down into it. “Dean. Come on.”

“Sleep,” Dean drones, half muffled by his blanket, but Castiel shakes his head.

“Nope,” he says, swinging his legs off the bed. “Bath.” When Dean still fails to move, Castiel uses his natural alpha strength to lift Dean in his arms, ignoring the shocked cry that comes when Dean suddenly finds himself outside of the nest he’s made himself so comfortable in. But then his arms lock around Castiel’s neck, and Castiel’s inner alpha purrs with delight.

They head out into the sunlight, and Dean buries his face in Castiel’s neck, not-so-subtly scenting him. “Cas,” Dean says, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re both pretty naked.”

“I don’t know if _you’ve_ noticed,” Castiel teases, kicking his gate open, “but I live alone.” Impala looks up from where she’s grazing under the trees, and Castiel nods to her in greeting. “There’s no one for miles. You’re the first person I’ve seen out here in _years_.” He jostles Dean playfully, enjoying the ungraceful squeal that Dean makes, but not as much as he enjoys the way Dean’s arms tighten around him. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“Where are we going?” Dean asks quietly, finally lifting his head to squint up at the sky, shielding his eyes with one hand.

“The stream,” Castiel answers. He has soap and clean cloths tucked away at a little embankment covered in flat stones, and a little cool water will probably do wonders beyond just cleanliness for Dean right now. “You’re covered in sweat and come, so a bath can’t be put off any longer.”

Dean makes a little noise, annoyed and pouty, but he turns his head and snuffles against Castiel’s neck, scenting him again. Castiel revels in it, and pretends he doesn’t.

Once they reach the stream, Castiel gently sets Dean down on the embankment, before sliding into the water. He hesitates before resting a hand on Dean’s knee and smiling at him. “Are you okay to come in with me?”

Dean’s eyes are red-rimmed and exhausted, but he manages a smile, dangling his feet in the water. “You’ve been feeding me and building me nests and… whatever just happened, but you draw the line at bathing me?”

Castiel pauses. He slowly, awkwardly, lifts his hand and drops it back into the water, but he doesn’t move too far away. Dean’s teasing, clearly, which says a lot about his state of mind, but now that they’re out of that intense, sexual moment, Castiel is starting to doubt his decision.

He never should have given in to his instincts. Dean was in heat, and even if he was clear-headed enough to remember Castiel’s name and respond to his questions, does that mean he could really say yes? Dean asked for it and never objected, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t regret it or resent Castiel once the heat has fully left his body. It’s good that Castiel didn’t knot or bite, but that doesn’t change the fact that Castiel still took advantage of Dean’s body.

All those beautiful, domestic fantasies fly up into the sky and dissolve, replaced by the fear that once Dean’s strength is back, he’ll storm back to his village, raving to his loved ones about the crazed hermit alpha in the woods that assaulted him. At best, he’ll never see Dean again and have to live with what he’s done. At worst, he’ll be hunted down like an animal.

“Hey.” Fingertips press against Castiel’s chin, tilting his head up until he meets Dean’s eyes. “What are you thinking?”

Castiel blinks up at him, breathing deep. “Nothing.”

“Horseshit. Don’t lie to me.” Dean growls softly, pressing a finger between Castiel’s eyebrows. “You’ve got thoughtlines all the way up your forehead, and they’re stressed as a mama dragon, so spill.”

Taken aback, Castiel can’t speak for a moment. “You’re… has your heat passed?”

Dean shrugs, leaning back on his hands to soak up the sun’s heat. He looks like a young god, stretched out like this, explosions of freckles all over his chest and belly and thighs… though most of them are still covered with drying come. Castiel has the decency to blush when he realizes this, and turns his head away.

“I’m afraid,” he admits. “You can’t-... if you’re in heat, then…”

Dean growls again, abruptly pushing himself into the water with a splash. Castiel ducks from it, gaping when Dean surfaces again and runs a hand through his damp hair. “Weren’t you testing me?” Dean asks, glaring at him. “Asking me to say your name, wasn’t that so you could know that I wasn’t just stuck in a heat fog?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“And I said your name,” Dean continues, leaning onto the rock next to Castiel. “I understood your question and answered correctly, and now I even remember it. Does that sound like heat fog to you?”

“No, but-”

“My name is Dean of Winchester,” Dean announces suddenly, staring Castiel straight in the eye. “I’m twenty-two years old, and was born in midwinter. I have a mother, a father, and a younger brother named Sam. I am fully aware of almost everything that has happened since I arrived here two nights ago, and have given my consent for everything that happened this morning. I will not allow some wishy-washy alpha to deny me that.” He moves closer to Castiel then, close enough that Castiel actually takes a step back, unnerved. He’s never met an omega with this kind of bearing before. It’s powerful and elegant and if Castiel wasn’t sold on this omega before, he certainly is now.

What an incredible omega Dean is. What a strange sort of alpha Castiel is that he’s not just enamored with this display, but turned on by it as well.

“I’d never deny you anything,” Castiel says before he can stop himself. He slaps a hand over his mouth when Dean’s eyes widen in surprise, and they both end up blushing pink in the sunlight, trying not to look at one another.

“Then trust me when I tell you that you did nothing wrong,” Dean manages to say. He nods once, then turns away, ducking under the water to try and wash his skin clean. Castiel watches him for a moment, then catches himself and sighs, trying to find something to distract himself with. There’s nothing but the wind moving through the grass on the edge of the stream, spring flowers starting to bloom at the base of the trees. The sun leaves dappled shadows on the rocky embankment, and Castiel pulls himself up there to start drying off.

It must be nesting instincts, hooking into his brain, letting him get attached to Dean. Working with those other omegas was never like this, but there are plenty of reasons why that might be true. There were always so many of them, for one thing. For another, he mainly dealt with his sister, and everyone knows that there is no bigger deterrent than the smell of one’s family. Anna isn’t around to dampen Dean’s smell.

And such a _lovely_ smell it is.

Quietly, fiercely, Castiel sends out a wish to the universe for Dean to stay in his life. Somehow. Anyhow. It doesn’t matter.

Flowers and bees aren’t going to make very good company anymore.

\-----

There’s really no nice way to put it: Dean is freaking out.

He’s a little annoyed that Castiel is so hung up on Dean’s heat that he still can’t fully recognize that Dean had _wanted_ sex. Gods, Dean had wanted to be _knotted_ , and Castiel had found other ways to satisfy him that didn’t involve ending up mated on accident.

If that doesn’t speak to the alpha’s incredible self-control, then what does?

Dean splashes cool water on his face and takes a few deep breaths. _I’d never deny you anything_ , Castiel had said, and as much as Dean wants to write that off, he can’t. This is a strange situation, no doubt. The two of them, all alone in a sweet little cottage in the woods, trying to deal with an unexpected heat. It’s like something out of the torrid kind of book that gets sold only under the table, in the furthest corners of the marketplace.

Of course, Dean owns several. He is not his father, and the villagers seem to trust him more for it.

But Castiel doesn’t act like those bodice-ripping alphas. He’s sweet and quiet and conscious of Dean’s needs even when Dean isn’t able to articulate them. Dean glances over his shoulder to confirm that yes, even now, Castiel is looking away, giving him privacy. Dean’s thighs are still burning where Castiel’s cock had found friction between them, but even now Castiel will turn his head away as if he doesn’t have permission to look.

And Dean appreciates this. It’s strange, but he does.

Castiel is a _nice_ alpha. Dean has friends who are alphas, people he loves, but he wouldn’t necessarily say any of them are _nice_. Except maybe Sam, but Sam is his brother.

For the first time in a while, Dean remembers that he’s supposed to be finding a suitor. That his father wants him to get married and go be a trophy omega in some other kingdom, even though Dean has been training to take over the throne since he was just a pup, and Sam has no interest in anything except studying with the Men of Letters. So Dean isn’t sure what John expects to get out of marrying Dean off.

But what if Dean married someone who wasn’t royalty?

He could stay in Winchester, and run the kingdom like he was always meant to do. The villagers don’t have any issue with Dean being an omega; they like him for so many other reasons that his gender is practically irrelevant. John is the only person who seems to have an issue with it, and the more Dean and Sam and their mother fight him on it, the more insistent he becomes.

But what if John didn’t have a choice?

Dean glances over his shoulder at Castiel again. A nice alpha. A good alpha, who respects Dean’s needs and smells like honey and garden flowers.

There’s an enclosed garden at the castle. It’s in full bloom right now, pinks and purples and blues, and plenty of bees. Castiel would probably like it. Maybe he could even build them a swing or a gazebo, like he built the cottage.

But it wouldn’t be fair to trap Castiel like that. He doesn’t know that Dean is a prince. Dean snorts to himself, wondering if maybe Impala ‘fessed up, but Dean is pretty damn sure that if Castiel knew about his bloodline, there’s not a chance in hell that Castiel would have ever laid hands on him.

Dean sighs, staring at his hands under the water. He’s pretty sure his heat is out of his system, and it probably wouldn’t be very difficult for him to convince Castiel to go ahead and knot him now, but if Castiel didn’t bite before, then he won’t bite now. Even if Dean asked to be bit and mated, Castiel would still be the voice of reason.

 _I’d never deny you anything_. Dean huffs. Yeah, right.

But it’s nice to dream. Dean already knows that Castiel would be a better mate than any of his current options. He considers being honest and telling Castiel that he’s a prince, and then offering him the opportunity to mate… but Castiel is skittish. He runs to avoid his attraction and arousal, and if Dean being an omega in heat wasn’t bad enough, then being a prince in heat will just scare him off for good.

Still. Even if Castiel doesn’t bite, Dean wants to have sex with him. If only once. Because he’s sure he’ll regret it if he doesn’t.

Dean takes a deep breath and wades over to where Castiel is spread out on the bank. Castiel lifts his head, blinking in surprise when Dean smiles and lifts himself up out of the water. “All clean?” Castiel asks. Dean shrugs and wipes water from his forehead.

“Feel better than I have in weeks,” Dean comments, drawing his legs up and leaning over his knees. The sun is pleasant on his back, and he cautiously hopes that means his heat really is gone.

Castiel smirks. “You’ve only been here a couple days. Did it really feel like weeks?”

Chuckling, Dean responds, “Well, heats suck and all that, but… that wasn’t really what I meant.” Castiel eyes him curiously, but Dean just rolls his shoulders and shoves away all thoughts of what’s waiting for him at home. “I think I’m done. At least, I’m through the worst of it, so,” he rubs the back of his neck, staring at his reflection in the water. “I should probably head back soon.”

“Oh,” Castiel says, unable to mask his disappointment. Dean can’t blame him; if what he was saying is true, then it must be awfully lonely living out here. What makes somebody want to live all by themselves, essentially exiled from all human interaction? Especially someone as warm-hearted as Castiel?

Looks like Dean will never know.

“I’d like to make it home before dark,” Dean continues. “My mom is probably already crawling up the walls, but I don’t want to make it any worse, if I can avoid it.”

Castiel nods slowly. “Winchester, you said? That’s only a couple hours from here.”

“Two, on Impala,” Dean boasts, smiling brightly. Castiel ignores him and looks up at the sky.

“It’s around noon, so,” he swallows and keeps his gaze averted, “you have some time.”

“Yeah,” Dean says conversationally, leaning back on his arms. He’s all on display again, and Castiel doesn’t even bother to hide his interest. Maybe he’s hoping for the same indulgent farewell that Dean is. “Plenty of time.”

The conversation dies away, both of them waiting for the other one to make the first move. Dean’s skin is thrumming with anticipation, his cock starting to fill with blood just thinking about Castiel’s knot inside him. The only sounds are birds singing, and the wind moving through the leaves. Castiel shifts, staring at Dean’s thighs, and slowly lifts his hand… but leaves it dangling in the air, uncertain.

Dean huffs and grabs Castiel’s hand. There’s a spark, almost, when their skin touches, and Dean pauses, rubbing his thumb over Castiel’s knuckles. He meets Castiel’s eyes, and their gazes lock as Dean guides Castiel’s hand to rest high on his thigh, fingertips near Dean’s half-hard cock.

But they don’t look away. Castiel lightly drags his fingers up Dean’s inner thigh, and a shiver works down Dean’s spine, but their eyes stay focused on each other.

“Your heat’s gone?” Castiel asks, voice even deeper than normal.

Dean nods quickly. “No biting,” he warns, “but I want you to knot me.”

“I can do that,” Castiel agrees, and before Dean can process it, Castiel’s other hand has pulled him in for a searing kiss.

Dean starts purring almost immediately, and Castiel chuckles into his mouth, fingers sliding into Dean’s hair to keep him close. It’s a demanding gesture, but Dean revels in it, his instincts instructing him to relax and let Castiel’s tongue search his mouth, lick along the roof. Dean hums, his breathing speeding up, and he slides closer on the bank, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s neck.

Castiel starts nipping at Dean’s lips, dragging his mouth across Dean’s jaw and down to his neck, where he scents openly, groaning. Dean just keeps purring as he returns the favor, pressing his teeth into junction of Castiel’s neck and shoulder.

Castiel growls at that, and suddenly Dean is being lifted into the air. Castiel is on his feet, carrying Dean again, practically running back to the cabin. “I thought-” Dean starts, but Castiel just growls again.

“You wouldn’t be comfortable there,” he insists.

“Yeah, well, the bed is covered in sweat and come,” Dean argues, leaning into Castiel’s neck to scent him again and leave a trail of kisses on his skin, enjoying the way he can draw a growl out of his impatient alpha.

“The garden,” Castiel supplies. “The grass and soil are soft.”

“Okay,” Dean whispers, stroking Castiel’s hair as the alpha pushes the gate open with his hip, then kicks it closed behind him. Impala nickers somewhere nearby, and when Castiel tells her to shoo, Dean is surprised when she actually listens, slowly sauntering off into the forest. Before Dean can ask, Castiel is shifting his weight, settling Dean down in the grass next to a patch of blue flowers.

Something about this makes Dean feel like a blushing virgin again, and that realization makes him actually blush. The flowers, the sunlight, the perfectly gorgeous alpha, built like a prince and hung like a centaur… those torrid books Dean had read always featured virgin omegas in white, crossing their legs even as they begged for it, so maybe that’s what Dean is thinking of. Or maybe it’s just that, for all the times Dean has had sex, he’s never felt the rush that comes with just kissing Castiel. He hadn’t even thought to ask for it over the days he was here, but now that he’s gotten one, he finds himself reaching up for Castiel, guiding him in for more kissing.

Castiel’s hands are everywhere as soon as their lips touch, mapping out Dean’s skin, and Dean writhes with it, wanting to keep Castiel’s hands on him. He’s slick already, the smell permeating the air, and Castiel moans into his mouth, his hips jerking forward against Dean’s.

And again, Dean has been with alphas before. He knows their dicks tend to be on the large side, and hell, he’s been with alphas bigger than Castiel, but something about that long cock sliding against Dean’s stomach just lights Dean on fire. It’s not like heat, not all-consuming, miserable and demanding, but it simmers under his skin, fueling a desire to kiss and touch and nip.

This morning’s event suddenly feel like a long, drawn-out form of foreplay. Dean’s inner thighs still simmer where Castiel had fucked him without fucking him, and he moans softly at the memory, spreads his legs even wider. Castiel hums in approval, but pulls away from Dean’s lips to leave open-mouthed kisses on his neck, his collar, the very center of his chest. Dean’s fingers thread through Castiel’s hair, but he hesitates, unsure if he wants to pull Castiel’s mouth back to his, or maybe push it lower. Either could aggravate Castiel’s alpha instincts; alphas like to be in charge and make the decisions.

But Castiel’s not your average alpha.

Using that to steel his nerves, Dean tugs at Castiel’s hair, until those bright blue eyes look up at his face. There’s curiosity there, but that’s all, so Dean smirks and shifts his hips, drawing Castiel’s attention to his straining dick, red and leaking against his stomach.

Castiel huffs, smiling slightly. “You want my mouth on you?” When Dean nods, Castiel shakes his head. “You’re awfully bold for an omega. And surprisingly big.”

Dean grins; that’s something he hears a lot, but only alphas ever seem to complain about it.

“I’m not sure I could handle more than a mouthful,” Castiel admits. His honesty surprises Dean, and he’s almost ready to offer to guide Castiel through it, when Castiel’s grin stretches and turns mischievous. “But I can give you something else.”

Before Dean can respond, Castiel’s hands are on his hips, lifting them up and almost bending him in half. Dean yelps in surprise, his legs in the air, as Castiel inhales deeply. The scent of aroused alpha spikes, now more musk than honey, and Dean revels in it shamelessly. He wants to roll around in that smell until it’s embedded in his pores, mixed with his own scent to create something new and whole. That’s a prelude to mating, and maybe there is still some heat running through Dean’s system, because he doesn’t care. Scenting, biting, knotting, he _just doesn’t care_.

He wants Castiel to claim him. They had agreed no biting, but if Castiel forgets or can’t resist his instincts, Dean wouldn’t mind so much. At least, not in this state.

He loses his train of thought when Castiel’s tongue presses flat against his entrance. _Shit_. No alpha has done this for Dean of their own volition, and most of them only do out of obligation, which is clear in the clinical way they approach it.

Castiel dives in like he’s been waiting his entire life for something that tastes as good as Dean’s slick. His hands grip at Dean’s thighs tight enough to leave bruises as he moans, and the vibration travels up Dean’s spine. Dean whimpers, dragging his hands over his face, and Castiel’s scent spikes again. A fresh wave of slick leaks out, only to be caught by Castiel’s eager tongue.

Dean grinds back against him, chasing the sensation and clawing at the grass in an attempt to keep himself grounded. He can’t stop the noises wrenching their way out of his throat, and pleasure coils low in Dean’s stomach, making him jolt when Castiel flicks his tongue inside.

“Cas, _fuck_ ,” Dean manages, pushing one hand through Castiel’s hair and tugging hard. “Cas, I’m gonna… can you get _on_ with it?”

Castiel lifts his head, meeting Dean’s eyes and cocking an eyebrow. He blows cool air against Dean’s entrance, making him jump again. “Alpha makes the call.”

“Bull _shit_ ,” Dean pants, tugging at Castiel’s hair again. To his surprise, Castiel actually grins, dropping Dean’s knees to his shoulders so he can lean over him a little easier. It’s still awkward, and Dean can’t bend quite enough to reach Castiel’s lips and steal a kiss, but he does hear what Castiel whispers next:

“Don’t ever change.”

Dean blinks up at him, surprised, but Castiel’s smile is soft enough to almost look sad, and it sends a shiver down Dean’s spine that has nothing to do with lust. That look on Castiel’s face makes Dean feel exposed, which is a weird way to feel about someone who just had their tongue in your ass.

So Dean pushes his embarrassment away and bares his neck, shifting his hips until the tip of Castiel’s cock catches between his cheeks, and Castiel gasps like a drowning man. The moment is gone, and Dean tells himself he doesn’t regret missing it.

Instead, he enjoys the growl that rips its way out of Castiel’s chest as Castiel nearly bends him in two, snuffling at the scent gland high on Dean’s neck, then gently nibbling at the freckled skin around it. Strong hands brush up Dean’s thighs, pushing at the knees until Dean’s legs are spread wide, but he’s free to slide them down to wrap around Castiel’s waist instead.

Every time Castiel tries to sit up, Dean pulls him back down, stealing kisses, rubbing their faces together, anything that he can permanently stamp into his memory so that he never forgets that this dream actually happened. Finally Castiel laughs and protests, “I need to open you up, Dean. I’m afraid my cock is quite a bit bigger than my tongue.”

“I noticed,” Dean says with a grin. “But I can take it, I swear.”

“Dean-”

“I just finished my heat, I’m wetter than a mermaid, I’m-”

“Dean,” Castiel says firmly. It’s not Alpha Voice, but it’s close enough that Dean decides to shut up and listen. “I must insist. I refuse to hurt you.”

Dean pouts, but he allows Castiel to shift out of his grasp, and when Castiel makes a circular gesture with his hands, Dean rolls over onto his stomach and presents. There’s another spike of alpha pheromones at that moment, and Dean basks in it, tilting his hips at an angle that curves his spine almost painfully, but it’s worth it for the way Castiel snarls and grabs at him.

Castiel’s tongue tests out the waters again, surprising a moan out of Dean, but this time it’s accompanied by a pair of long fingers that slip into Dean’s hole like they were made for the job. Castiel hums, clearly pleased by how easily Dean adjusts to the intrusion, and Dean gasps for air and tries to push back for more, because this is not enough.

This isn’t as bad as his heat. In heat, the drive for a knot is genuinely painful. Burning skin that can’t be soothed, cramps and chafing and mood swings that lead an omega to believe they’re undesirable and may never have pups. So this lust, more like simmering electricity, is really almost enjoyable.

Except for the fact that _Dean needs more_.

He’s been good over the last few days, and now he’s finally getting what he wants, as Castiel plays with his hole, stretching the rim and slipping a third finger inside. But somehow, after waiting _days_ , the last few moments of waiting are worse.

Dean needs a _knot. Now_.

Castiel’s fingers are sliding in and out easily, so he adds a fourth just to be sure, and leans over Dean’s body to give himself leverage. “Is this good?” he asks, like he can’t hear the way Dean is panting, can’t see how Dean’s hips roll back towards the intrusion. Dean can’t even muster up the air to answer; he just tilts his head to see Castiel’s crooked smile, and whines softly.

“Good,” Castiel says, in a casual tone that almost reminds Dean of his childhood tutors, when he would answer a question about math or history correctly. That strange moment of nostalgia is quickly driven away when one of Castiel’s fingers nudge his prostate, and Dean is all gasps and whines and pleading again, clawing at the ground under his hands.

“Very good,” Castiel continues, and Dean is suddenly empty. Then, just as suddenly, he’s not. The head of Castiel’s cock slips inside, and when Castiel hesitates there, still worried about Dean’s comfort, Dean growls and uses his weight to push himself back, sheathing Castiel’s cock all the way to the hilt, like a sword in a stone.

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to be reduced to gasping, as he scrabbles for purchase on Dean’s sweaty skin, but Dean has no patience for his alpha’s attempts to take control, like.. well, like an alpha. He moves forward, then back again, bouncing and rolling against Castiel’s hips and thighs, and the satisfaction of finally having a fat alpha cock inside him is _heavenly_. His own cock is dangling hard and heavy, dripping white onto the ground below, but the sensation is so good that Dean doesn’t even care. He’ll come like this, no problem.

He’s so wrapped up in scratching that itch that he’s actually caught unawares when Castiel’s palm presses between his shoulderblades and forces him back down, taking away his leverage. Then, Castiel drapes himself over Dean’s back, weighing him down even further, and Dean moans when he realizes that he’s not the one in charge anymore.

Castiel grinds against Dean’s backside, pushing himself in deep, and Dean chokes on his breath, his dick twitching eagerly against his stomach. Castiel rolls his hips, slowly grinding in and dragging out, and takes his time sniffing and scenting Dean. He leaves kisses all across Dean’s shoulders, nuzzles at his scent gland and the soft hair near the nape of his neck. Dean shivers under the affection, confused by it, but maybe not as confused as he should be.

They could be happy mates, after all. Under different circumstances.

Dean tries not to dwell on it, losing himself in the friction and the slow but distinct growth of Castiel’s knot, as it starts to catch on his rim. But then, Castiel does something odd: he snuffles along the back of Dean’s neck, stopping at the pad of muscle where neck becomes shoulder. There, he places a firm, open-mouthed kiss, and while there’s no teeth, not even a nip, Dean recognizes the gesture for what it is.

If Castiel were going to mate him, that’s where he’d leave his mark.

And Dean’s not sure if that’s alpha instinct that Castiel is attempting to control, or if it’s an indulgent fantasy, but he lets himself believe, for just a few moments, that he and Castiel could be mates.

It’s a beautiful image. Castiel would be a gorgeous alpha prince, dressed in blues and blacks, and they could rule side by side, like equals. Castiel probably doesn’t know much about running a kingdom, but he is kind and capable and gentle, and would probably be loved by all their people, for his beauty and benevolence. They would have pups: an heir, a spare, and one or two more just because the creation process is so much fun. And Dean wouldn’t care if his first-born was an alpha or an omega, they would be heir regardless and treated just the same.

And they would be happy. Dean’s happy little family.

Castiel’s kiss feels burned into Dean’s skin, and Dean only realizes that Castiel’s lips aren’t there anymore when he hears the alpha stutter, “Close… close?” The knot is still growing, and Castiel isn’t able to piston as rapidly as he was before, so as he resorts to grinding against all the places that make Dean moan, Dean plays his part by lifting his hips just enough to grab his own cock and pull.

It’s only a few more seconds before Dean is crying out and coming, and between the clench and the sweet, satisfied omega pheromones, Castiel loses control. He loses whatever sense of rhythm he was still holding onto, high-pitched gasps bursting over Dean’s neck, before his knot finally reaches full size and his come starts pumping into Dean’s hole.

Concern flitters through Dean’s mind just then, something about pups, but it’s there and gone quicker than a fairy’s wing. This feels too good to ruin with things they can’t choose or change.

Castiel collapses on top of Dean, but after taking a moment to catch his breath, he rolls them both onto their sides, his arms pulling Dean close into his chest.

“Okay?” Castiel rumbles.

Dean chuckles softly. “Okay. You?”

“Fantastic. Ah!” Castiel cries when Dean suddenly shifts on his knot, pulling another orgasm from him. “Gentle,” he chides, nuzzling shamelessly into Dean’s hair.

He’s a surprisingly affectionate alpha, Dean discovers, as they wait for the knot to go down. Dean usually likes this part well enough, the conversation and getting to be close to someone, but Castiel takes it to an entirely different level. He grooms Dean’s hair and scents him and kisses his skin and never asks for permission, but Dean doesn’t really mind. He’d say so if he did. He’d think it’s some weird sort of alpha instinct, except none of the other alphas Dean’s been with have been like this, so maybe it’s just Castiel.

Dean dozes with Castiel’s hands in his hair, unable to tell if the purr vibrating through his chest is coming from him or the alpha. The sun is warm and the grass is soft, and Dean could stay here forever, comfortable and loved on.

Unfortunately, he only gets about twenty minutes before Castiel’s knot goes down and slips free, come leaking out onto Dean’s thighs. He whines as Castiel sits up to stretch. “I guess that means I gotta go home now.”

He sits up as well, heavy with exhaustion and satisfaction, and manages to smile at Castiel even though his heart is sinking into his stomach at the thought of leaving this little oasis. Dean has never wanted to be the trophy omega, the little beauty cleaning house and making meals -- that’s half the reason he’s fighting so hard against the potential partners his father keeps finding -- but he could be happy sharing that with Castiel.

And it’s probably a bad thing that he keeps thinking he could be happy with Castiel as both prince and pauper, so he tries to ignore it.

Castiel is blinking at him, a vision of tanned skin and blue eyes and dark, wild hair. “You could take another bath,” he offers slowly.

Dean’s grin becomes more genuine. “But no sex this time, big boy.”

\-----

Castiel retrieves Dean’s clothes and redresses himself while Dean attempts to wash even more sweat and come from his skin. They’re silent as Dean dries off and pulls his clothes back on. They feel heavy and strange after spending so much time with just a blanket and his skin, and Dean tugs sharply at his collar as he whistles for Impala.

“Guess this is it,” he says softly. The horse approaches the gate and Dean grabs at her reins, but hesitates before climbing into the saddle. “Thanks for everything, Cas,” he adds. Castiel stares at him. “I mean it. You were… the perfect alpha gentleman this entire time. It’s like my fairy godmother decided to finally grant me a fuckin’ wish.”

Castiel smiles at that and ducks his head. “I wouldn’t say I was a gentleman the _entire_ time-”

“Bullshit. I asked and you gave.” Dean reaches out, pressing two fingertips under Castiel’s chin until their eyes meet again. “Don’t tell yourself any different. I appreciate _everything_ you did for me.”

Castiel takes a short breath, hesitating. His voice is so quiet that Dean almost doesn’t hear when he says, “Then. You’ll come see me again?”

And _gods_ , if that doesn’t light Dean up inside. He can’t fight his smile, so instead he turns to adjust Impala’s saddle, trying not to give too much of himself away. “Sure. I’d like that.”

He pauses, then steels himself, before swiftly turning around and stealing one last kiss. Even if he wants to come back, maybe for his next heat, there’s no guarantee that he’ll be able to get away again. Alone. Or that he’ll be able to remember how to find Castiel’s cottage.

It would be easy to open up now, as Castiel leans into him, pressing gentle kisses to his lips. To say that he’s a prince and he wants to keep Castiel, take him back to civilization and maybe make him royalty as well. But there are traditions to be followed, and maybe Castiel would prefer to stay here in the woods anyway, so Dean swallows the words and tears himself away, pulling himself onto Impala’s back before he can change his mind.

“I’ll see you soon,” Dean promises.

“I’ll be here,” Castiel replies, sounding a little distraught.

Dean nods. Takes a breath. And with an abrupt little wave, he turns and heads west towards the setting sun. The castle and the village and all Dean’s friends and family and his normal life wait there, but he can’t help feeling like he left a part of himself with Castiel, and will have to return someday to make himself whole again.

Or, perhaps, he’s taken a part of Castiel with him.


	2. Melianthus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is edited but unbeta'd - all mistakes are my own! 
> 
> This chapter's a little exposition-y, definitely getting us from one place to another, but! Still some good info in there and kicking off some plotty things :) Enjoy!

Correction: _This_ is the stupidest thing Dean has ever done.

Granted, this moment is born of the previous winner of the stupidest-thing-Dean-has-ever-done award, but it’s still stupid. Wandering around in the woods for the fifth time in as many days, trying to figure out where, exactly, Castiel’s cottage is, because finding it on purpose is apparently not as easy as finding it by accident.

It’s like the damn thing evaporated. Dean _knows_ , it took about two hours for him to get back to the castle, so every day he’s traveled that far and started leading Impala around the woods. He took Victor with him one day, and Jo the next. He wanted to go by himself the next day, since Jo spent most of her time whining about the rain, but his mother had only given him a furious glare, and sent Jess to fetch a volunteer from the barracks.

Today, his companions are Benny and Charlie. Technically, Charlie isn’t a knight, but she gets cabin fever sitting in the library all the time, and volunteered to go have an adventure. She’s better company than Jo, cheerfully reciting everything she’s learned recently about summoning spells, letting her voice fill the silence as Dean and Benny keep an eye out for what is apparently a fucking vanishing cottage.

“You sure it’s out here, brother?” Benny drawls when Charlie pauses to take a sip of water from her flask. “Are you sure the whole thing wasn’t-”

“I think we have some pretty solid proof that I didn’t hallucinate him,” Dean grumbles.

Benny chuckles when Charlie chokes on her water. “I’m just sayin’, if there was somebody living out here, we shoulda seen proof of it by now.”

Dean agrees, which is why evaporation, or some sort of magical spell, is the only explanation he can think of.

Maybe he should’ve tried to find Cas sooner. He’d wanted to go back within a week of getting home, but his disappearance had worried his mother more than he expected. He is a grown-ass man, and she barely let him out of her sight for days, taking every opportunity to cry about how she had thought he was dead or abducted and he should never, _ever_ go out alone again.

Sam and the king had been concerned too, but they were less emotional about it. Sam had hung onto him like a monkey for a little while, but then he had studying to do and spells to cast. John had actually hugged Dean and welcomed him back, before immediately bringing up some alpha marquis near the sea, who was looking for an omega to sit at his side and bear a few pups.

That was the first time Dean missed Cas.

And that feeling didn’t go away.

He’d sit at the tower windows and stare out at the expanse of green trees stretching outside the fortress, wondering if he could see Castiel’s cottage from here. He’d sit at the table with wine and pheasant and family and wonder if Castiel was eating okay, or if he was lonely. He’d walk past the gardens and feel genuine, physical pain in his chest and stomach, the smell of flowers so close yet so far from Castiel’s intoxicating scent.

The queen and Sam both had commented on how quiet Dean had been lately, but he had chosen to keep his whereabouts a secret, and simply said he was tired, or sick.

That story was helped when, a few weeks after his return, he started vomiting after every meal.

After a few miserable weeks more, he realized his heat hadn’t come.

Sam had suggested once that Dean smelled different after coming back from the woods, but since none of the other alphas or omegas commented on it, Dean had written it off as Sam being overly sentimental. He’d pretty much forgotten it entirely, until Queen Mary had called for a healer over his sickness, who noticed the change right away.

“He’s pregnant,” she had said, as soon as she walked through the door, and with so much confidence that Dean didn’t dare question her. Mary, of course, argued that that was impossible, until Dean decided to come clean about his frolic in the woods with Castiel. What was the point of hiding it now? The proof was in the pudding, as they say.

But while Mary had a quiet conversation with the healer, their backs turned to him, he had pressed both hands against his belly and smiled, hoping that this meant he could keep Castiel after all.

John wasn’t happy, of course. Mating would be out of the question while he was carrying some strange alpha’s pup, and it wouldn’t get much better once the child came into the world. Noble alphas don’t want a used omega, and they don’t want pups that smell like a different alpha- it's a threat to their lineage and their territory.

When Dean cheerfully suggested mating Castiel and keeping his crown, John had stormed off into his private chambers to rage, while Mary followed in an attempt to talk some sense into him.

The eventual agreement was that if Dean could find Castiel again, he could invite him to the castle to meet his family, allow them to judge whether or not he was a good match for Dean, and whether or not he could handle the responsibilities of a prince. Then, and only then, would John be willing to entertain the idea of Cas being Dean's mate.

That’s how Dean ended up here in the woods, searching for a sweet-smelling alpha and trying to ignore the way his stomach is rebelling against the long, bouncy ride on a horse.

“I don’t get it,” Dean says, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I practically tripped over him when I was in heat, but now, nothing.” He scents the air and sighs. “Can’t even smell the brook, let alone his garden.”

“Maybe you finding him prompted him to move,” Charlie suggests. “There are transportation spells that can move an entire area of land, and if he’s on the run-”

“He’s not on the run, Charlie, _gods_.” Dean rolls his eyes. “There's no way he could've done anything to justify that. He’s the sweetest alpha I’ve ever met.”

“Well excuse _me_ ,” Benny harrumphs.

Dean ignores him, urging Impala forward. He never found out if Cas was being serious about talking to animals or not, but he finds himself wishing he could talk to Impala. She probably knows where Cas is, but how does he give a command like that? Dean could understand Cas when he spoke to the horse, so maybe she understands English well enough... But she’d know by now that they were looking for Cas if that was the case, right?

Maybe she’s just waiting to be asked.

“Hey, girl,” Dean says, stroking his hand down her neck. Her ears twitch. “Do you remember where Cas is?”

She flips her head and huffs. Charlie has enough time to ask, “Are you asking your _horse_?” before Impala starts to trot off to the right. Dean blinks in surprise, then turns back to his friends.

“Well, c’mon!”

Charlie and Benny stare at him, then exchange a worried glance before directing their own horses to follow.

After about fifteen minutes, Dean gets a whiff of wet earth and running water, and his heart starts to pound with excitement. Okay, _maybe_ a little fear too. And his nausea kicks up again, but he forces himself to ignore it. He will _not_ be reunited with Cas, after _nine weeks_ apart, just to vomit all over him.

Sunlight greets them when they enter the clearing, and Dean shades his eyes just in time to witness Benny and Charlie’s jaws dropping, in sync, at the sight of Castiel’s pretty little cottage and colorful garden. He grins to himself, slipping off Impala’s back to jog towards the front gate, only to stop in his tracks when the bushes shift somewhere to the left. Castiel steps out, covered in mud and blood, and carrying a few dead rabbits in one hand.

This isn’t the reunion Dean was expecting.

He can’t even smell Cas, thanks to the mud, and the sight of the rabbits makes his stomach turn again. There is a rush of affection when Cas tries to wipe mud off his face with a muddy hand, and just ends up spreading the mess around, but mostly Dean just regrets that this is Charlie and Benny’s first impression of Cas.

“Hello,” Castiel says finally. The rabbits hang limply by his thigh as he keeps trying and failing to wipe the mud off his face. “I thought that was you I smelled, but I wasn’t…” He scents the air, glancing briefly at Charlie and Benny, before his eyes settle on Dean again. “You smell different.”

“That’s what I hear,” Dean drawls, ignoring Charlie’s unladylike snort.

The silence that follows is awkward, and Dean’s not sure if it’s because it’s taken so long for him to get back out here, or because they’re not alone. Castiel shifts forward, then back, before turning to study Charlie and Benny again.

“I wasn’t expecting company,” he says, apologetically.

“Our fault,” Charlie chimes in, offering a sweet smile. “We would’ve sent a messenger ahead, but Dean was the only one who knew where to find you.”

“Of course,” Castiel nods, wiping at his face again. Benny coughs. Dean sighs.

“These are my friends, Charlie and Benny,” he offers, gesturing at each in turn. Castiel keeps nodding, eyeing their horses and their gold and scarlet clothes.

“Knights,” he comments.

“Well, Benny’s a knight,” Dean corrects with a shrug. “Charlie’s more of a… a _scholar_.”

“A _mage_ ,” Charlie adds, dramatically waving her hands in the air. The movements accidentally create a buzzing spark of electricity, and she winces, dropping her hands back to her sides. “Okay, a mage _in training_.”

“This ain’t about us, though,” Benny says pointedly, earning himself a glare from Dean. “Don’t give me that look. Stop procrastinating and tell him.”

Dean scowls, but his expression relaxes into something like guilt when he looks back at Castiel’s curious face. “Tell me what?” Castiel asks quietly.

Dean rubs his hand over the back of his neck, his clothes suddenly itchy and suffocating. He came all the way out here to tell Castiel about the baby, about the opportunity to meet the king and the royal family, to possibly become part of it one day… but standing here in front of the alpha, he can’t find the words. His heart is stuttering in his chest, and he thinks that maybe, if he could just get a whiff of honey and roses, he might feel a little more confident.

But if he puts this off any longer, even just by telling Castiel to go take a bath, Benny will probably throttle him. Or at least call him a coward and verbally kick his ass, since killing the prince would be an act of treason.

Hey. That’s as good a place to start as any.

“I failed to mention something the last time I was here,” Dean says slowly. Castiel doesn’t move and his expression doesn’t change, but Dean can feel Charlie and Benny’s disapproving frowns even when he’s not looking at them. “I’m actually… kind of, a little bit… nobility.”

Castiel furrows his brows, blue eyes bright and sharp. “Nobility?”

“A little bit?” Benny scoffs. “ _Dean_. Come on, brother.”

Dean sighs again. “Okay. A _lot_ noblility. I’m, um… a prince?”

Castiel freezes. “A _prince_?”

“The crown prince of Winchester,” Dean recites with a nod. “Sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

Castiel stares at him for a long moment, then looks to Benny and Charlie again. “Am I under arrest?”

“What? _No_!” Dean rubs his hands over his face. “No, you’re not under arrest, why would you even think that?”

Before Castiel can attempt to answer, Benny pipes up, “If you were under arrest, we wouldn’t be standing here chatting, buddy. But I can still change my mind.”

There’s a spike of protective alpha pheromones, and Dean rolls his eyes, waving a hand in Benny’s direction. “Don’t listen to him. You’re fine. That’s not at all why we’re here.”

Castiel looks back at Dean, confusion apparent in his stance. “Then why _are_ you here?”

Dean falls silent. Castiel had expected him to come back for his next heat, but he never showed. Now, at least two heats later, he shows up with friends and drops the royalty bomb on the poor guy. Cas must be expecting the worst, because that’s what people always expect when it’s time to expect anything. And Dean’s not sure if the baby would be ‘the worst’ or not.

After a few seconds, Charlie prompts him again, and when Dean still fails to respond, she threatens, “I’ll tell him if you don’t.”

Dean makes a face at her. Castiel only appears more confused by this exchange. “More secrets?”

Still unsure of how to breach this subject, Dean quickly averts his eyes. Unfortunately, they land again on the rabbits, limp and lifeless, and while Dean knows where his food comes from, and he understands that hunting is a necessity for someone who lives on his own, well… Dean has always been an eater of food. It’s someone else’s job to kill it.

Apparently, the baby feels the same way.

Dean’s stomach lurches, and he has just enough time to reach the patch of bushes that Castiel emerged from, before he vomits his breakfast all over the grass.

Seriously, this is not how he wanted his next encounter with Castiel to go. There was supposed to be embracing and earth-shaking kisses and the intoxicating smell of wildflowers and honey. Why can’t the baby realize that? Alpha-daddy’s not exactly in the picture yet!

The clean smell of citrus hits his nose, easing his nausea, and a small hand strokes down his back. Behind him, he hears the gate creaking, and the distant sound of boots on wood. He wipes his mouth, lifting his head to give Charlie a weak smile. “‘Least I missed his shoes.”

Charlie smirks and shakes her head. “Somehow I don’t think he’d mind,” she whispers, as Castiel darts back out of his cottage with a glass of water, thrusting it in Dean’s direction.

“Are you sick?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned. Dean shakes his head, taking a drink to avoid speaking. Charlie rolls her eyes.

“Quite the opposite,” she chirps, grinning when Dean glares at her over the rim of the glass. “Go on and tell him the good news, Dean.”

Castiel just looks confused again, but Dean is warmed by his worry, by the simple thoughtfulness to hurry and get Dean a drink. Cas is a kind alpha, sweet and true, and his reaction to the pup’s existence is probably the last thing Dean needs to worry about. So he takes another drink, then hands his glass to Charlie.

“I’m pregnant,” he says quickly, before he can change his mind. Then, since he hadn’t exactly made any secret of his romps with alphas prior to meeting Castiel, he adds, “It’s yours. Of course it’s yours.”

Castiel stares. His eyes dart down to Dean’s belly, which is still pretty flat, especially under his thick jacket. “Pregnant,” Castiel breathes, mostly to himself. His hands twitch, but he takes a step back before glancing up at Dean’s eyes again. “You’re certain I’m not being arrested?”

Laughing, Dean shakes his head. “Nah. C’mon, they’re not gonna throw the future heir’s dad in a jail tower.” He’s joking, reaching out for the alpha, but now it’s Castiel who’s turning a little green.

“Future heir?” He repeats.

“Yeah. Did you forget about the whole ‘prince’ thing already?”

“No, I just…” Castiel swallows. “Are omegas allowed to rule in Winchester?”

Ah, but that’s the big question, isn’t it? Dean frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s complicated,” he says. “We’ll be discussing it at dinner this evening.”

“And we need to leave soon, if we want to be on time,” Benny calls out, still astride his horse and clearly amused by the scene playing out in front of him. Castiel doesn’t take his eyes off of Dean.

“Will I still get to see you?” he asks softly. Dean blinks, then remembers he forgot to include some very important information.

“Cas, you’re invited to dinner,” he says. “To the castle.”

“For tonight?”

“Until you want to leave,” Dean says carefully. “If you end up not liking me or my family, you can go. Hell, if you just don’t like the castle, you can come back here. It’s drafty as hell this time of year.” He’s laughing, but it comes out hollow, so he clears his throat before continuing. “But if you want to be in the pup’s life, or, um…”

He means to bring up mating. That is part of why he came to fetch Castiel, after all. Hoping that they could get to know each other a little better and get mated and bring the pup into a happy family. Give Dean’s father a reason to keep him in Winchester and on the throne.

But mating is a lot to ask after all this. After only spending a few days together, most of which Dean spent in a haze of heat, then coming back after a few months only to spring on poor Castiel that, oh, he knocked up a prince? Yeah. Mating, marriage, Castiel becoming a prince himself… that can wait.

Castiel is nodding already, though, without even hearing the rest of Dean’s sentence. “The experience will be easier for you if I’m there,” he says, which takes Dean by surprise. The healer had said the same thing, that omegas do better during pregnancy if their alpha is present to help take care of them. Castiel knew a lot about omegas in heat, and now this? Is Castiel a healer too?

That’s something that Dean should ask about on the trip back into Winchester. It probably wouldn’t look very good for Dean to show up with his mysterious alpha and really only know his name.

“You’re okay with leaving your home?” Dean asks. Castiel glances back at his garden, sadness crossing his face. He’d built the cottage, planted the garden, maintained it all for who knows how long, all by himself.

“I had hoped,” Castiel says suddenly, his voice soft, “that if you returned, you would stay here with me. That we could make this our nest. But,” he sighs, giving Dean a little smile, “I suppose I can make a few sacrifices. For you and the puppy.”

Dean blushes, taken aback by this admission. Sure, he’d dreamed about mating Castiel, but he hadn’t thought that the alpha would admit to doing the same. A quiet, “Aw,” reminds him that Charlie is still here, but apparently Castiel is winning her over already. Good. It’ll be nice to have someone else on their side when they get to the castle.

“Are we leaving or what?” Benny yells, ruining the moment. Dean huffs.

“Anything you want to pack?” He asks Castiel. “Pup’s due in early spring, and with winter coming, I’m not sure we’ll be able to come back before then.”

Castiel hesitates, then shakes his head. “I’m assuming they won’t let me wear deerskin around the castle,” he says drily, surprising a laugh out of both Dean and Charlie. “Do I have time for a bath, though? I’d rather not meet royalty like this.” He gestures at his mud-covered clothes and skin, and Dean presses a hand over his mouth to suppress his gagging when he sees a patch of blood on Castiel’s thigh.

“We’ll get somebody to help you at the castle,” Charlie steps in, guiding Castiel back over to the horses. “If we leave now, you’ll have plenty of time to change and get cleaned up there.”

Dean takes a few more seconds to settle his stomach while Charlie invites Castiel to pick a horse and rider to share with. When he finally turns around, he sees the alpha stroking Impala’s nose, and that brings a smile to his face. Good. They’ll have a chance to chat and get to know each other better now.

They all get saddled up before heading west again, and Charlie and Benny are nice enough to ride ahead a little, giving Dean and Castiel some semblance of privacy. Castiel is seated just behind Dean, his chest pressed flush against Dean’s back and his hands resting around Dean’s waist. The proximity is making Dean a little giddy, honestly, but he’s surprised by how much better he feels now compared to the ride out. His stomach is calm and his heartbeat is steady… maybe there’s actually something to this stuff about the alpha making pregnancy easier. It’d be awesome if Dean could actually hold his meals down again.

They ride in comfortable silence for a while, taking their time and listening to Charlie and Benny tease one another. Dean relaxes back against Castiel’s chest, and smiles to himself when he feels a soft purr start rumbling from the alpha. It’s _pleasant_ , and that’s not a word Dean uses very often. He’s comfortable and warm, and while he still hasn’t been able to pick up on Castiel’s scent, feeling him so close and content settles Dean’s omega instincts. He feels better than he has in weeks.

They stay like that for a few moments, until Dean catches himself dozing off. Not the best idea on the back of a horse, so he clears his throat and searches his mind for topics of conversation.

“I should warn you.” The words seem to jolt Castiel out of a daze, and Dean suppresses a laugh. “My dad’s not very excited about you or the baby. He had other plans, and you threw a wrench in them.” Dean smirks, glancing back at Castiel. “My dad doesn’t like change.”

Castiel studies him, then nods. “When you said things were complicated…”

“Yeah.” Dean sighs, facing forwards again. “Omegas are _allowed_ to rule in Winchester. There’s nothing saying we can’t, as long as we’re of royal blood. It’s just… none ever _have_. And Dad thinks there’s a reason for that, he doesn’t see why it should change, and so…”

He trails off, unsure of how to explain this. Castiel has proven himself to be very level-headed and in-control, but now his parental instincts might be kicking in, and who knows how he’ll react to the thought of losing his omega _and_ his pup to some other alpha? Especially since other places aren’t as civilized as Winchester, and they both know it. Dean could be relegated to nothing more than a concubine, and the puppy…

Dean shudders. He won’t think about it. He won’t allow it to happen. Castiel is his best bet for a brighter future.

“He’s trying to marry me off,” Dean admits in a rush. Castiel stills behind him, but doesn’t interrupt. “He doesn’t want me on the throne, so he’s been trying to match me up with whatever alpha wants to take me, but so far he’s been unsuccessful.”

Castiel snorts, his hands moving to slide down Dean’s arms, interlacing their fingers over Impala’s reins. “That is unsurprising.”

Dean huffs. “You sayin’ I’m not worth mating?”

“Hardly. But you’re not a poised, well-mannered nymph either.” Castiel rests his forehead against Dean’s shoulder, and Dean’s not sure how he managed to find such an affectionate alpha, but he thinks he likes it. “Other alphas, _noble_ alphas, care about that. Frankly, I don’t. Your strength and will impressed me from day one, Dean of Winchester, and I would be happy to mate you, if you would have me.”

And Dean’s blushing again, his brain and heart stuttering, both at a loss for words. He had tried to avoid that conversation earlier, afraid it would be too much, but now Castiel is just laying it out there for the world to see.

Dean coughs a few times, then finally manages to say, “Would you say that even if there wasn’t a baby or a throne on the line?”

“If you were still you? Absolutely.”

Dean ducks his head and smiles.

Castiel allows him the moment to settle before asking, “What about your mother? Or siblings?”

“Mom’s ecstatic, but she’s trying not to show it. For Dad’s sake.” Dean rolls his eyes where Castiel can’t see, then sighs. “I’m not sure about my brother, though. I think at this point he’s decided the pros outweigh the cons, but he’s willing to change his mind and alpha out if he ends up not liking you.” He laughs when Castiel’s hands tighten minutely. “Don’t worry, he’ll like you. He’s still more pup than man, though, so he might be a little growly about it.”

“How old is he?”

“Eighteen.”

“And he hasn’t challenged you for the throne?”

Dean laughs outright. “Sam’s happier practicing magic than trying to make tough decisions. He’s never been interested in being king.”

Castiel falls quiet again after that. At first, Dean’s okay with the silence. Castiel’s hands are still warm over his own, and he’s still purring softly, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. It’s almost as if the weeks apart never happened, and this easy sort of affection warms Dean from the inside.

But it freaks him out a little too. He doesn’t _really_ know Castiel that well. Dean’s here offering up information, but Castiel hasn’t responded with any of his own. What about _his_ family? Is he from one of the other villages nearby? Or another kingdom? Why would he choose to live all by himself in the middle of the woods? How does he know so much about omegas? Hell, Dean doesn’t even know how old Castiel is. Did he ever hold any titles? What if he’s also a prince? He can’t mate Dean and stay in Winchester, if that’s the case, the omega has to defer to the alpha’s title, unless Cas isn’t the heir, of course-

Castiel snuffles against Dean’s neck, scenting him, then presses a little kiss under his ear. It’s the kind of comforting gesture a mate would make, but Dean immediately settles.

They have six months to get to know each other. He doesn’t need to know everything of Castiel’s history right this second. He knows that Castiel is kind and gentle, and he just _feels_ right. The rest will come when it comes.

 

\-----

 

Dean sends Charlie ahead to make sure everything is ready when Castiel arrives, but even with the fine horse and the beautiful clothes and Dean’s own words, the news doesn’t really sink in until they arrive at the village, just before sundown.

Benny stops just ahead of them, making Dean pull Impala into a stop as well.

“What’s up?”

Benny stares out at the village, then reaches into his pack next to his saddle, pulling out a large, dark piece of fabric. “If _he_ ,” Benny points at Castiel, “is gonna be a prince of Winchester, _they_ ,” now directing his hand towards the shops and houses below, “deserve a better first impression than _this_.” Another gesture in Castiel’s direction, this one accompanied by a pointed look of disdain.

Castiel bristles at the insult. “I beg your pardon?”

“Cas, you’re still covered in mud,” Dean says with a laugh, taking the cloak from Benny’s hand. “He’s right, it’s not a very good first impression if you might end up their prince someday, so c’mon.” He presses the cloth into Castiel’s hands. “Don’t take it personally.”

But Castiel has frozen because that word has finally sunk in: _prince_. Dean is a _prince_ , could someday be a _king_ , and if Castiel becomes his mate, then Castiel would be a prince too.

After so many years of hunting deer and weeding vegetables, hiding by his lonesome in the forest, it’s a little difficult to wrap his head around. And it’s not like the royalty back home set a great example, all things considered. For a second, Castiel panics over the idea of Dean’s father being such a wicked king, but he calms himself with the reminder that Dean is free and strong, and the omega girl Charlie had seemed healthy and cheerful and was receiving an education, so perhaps not all royalty is quite as bad as it is in Cielo.

A rush of other memories threatens to open up, and Castiel pointedly throws the cloak over his shoulders, pulls the hood over his head, in an attempt to physically block them out. The rest of his worries fade away with a small, reassuring smile from Dean.

Upon entering the village, Castiel expects the people to give them a wide berth, maybe bow low on the ground, but to his surprise, several of them wave, calling Dean by name. A few even come towards Impala to shake the prince’s hand, and he chatters happily with them about whatever is going on in their lives. Dean congratulates a young girl who just presented as alpha, and promises to buy a drink for a newly mated couple. Through all of this, Castiel remains silent, and Benny rolls his eyes and sends him exhausted glances, as though this is something he has to put up with all the time.

Castiel likes it, however. A few people glance at him, curiously, but they seem to adore Dean so much that the hooded figure sharing his horse hardly seems to matter. Dean laughs at someone’s joke, slips a few gold coins to an elderly man in rags, then waves one last time, apologizing over having to get home to his mother. The people seem all the more enamored with him after this sheepish admission, and Castiel can’t help being impressed by Dean’s natural connection with his people.

This is definitely a step up from Cielo.

Winchester Castle is housed in a fortress, protected by a stone wall at least three times as tall as Castiel. It doesn’t do much to protect the towering castle, but once they’re safely inside the gate, Castiel sees lines and lines of wooden barracks all along the inner walls. “Is your army large?” Castiel asks, alarmed.

Dean frowns, glancing back at him. “What do you mean?”

Castiel gestures at the barracks, and Dean immediately smiles. “Nah, the knights all sleep in the back, close to the castle, and our mages stay in the towers. Those are for the villagers, in case of attack or bad weather or whatever.”

“You’d give them protection?”

Dean seems genuinely confused by Castiel’s surprise. “You gotta protect the people, or else what good are you? Being king is more than laying around on pillows and throwing fancy parties in nice clothes, y’know.”

“I know,” Castiel says quickly. “I just wasn’t aware there were kings who knew.”

Dean looks back at him again, brow furrowed. “Where the hell are you from, Cas?”

Castiel’s eyes sweep over the omega prince in his arms. High-spirited and stubborn and generous, maybe a little spoiled but certainly not unkind. For a moment, he allows himself to think back to Cielo, to picture what Dean would have been if he had grown up there.

It’s a tragic, painful image. Castiel feels a surge of guilt and disgust, and has to close his eyes, to lean in and subtly scent Dean’s hair. Apples and cinnamon and the new, sweeter smell of the baby, it all comes together to soothe Castiel, to push away horrific memories and terrible what-ifs.

“Nowhere,” Castiel whispers, tightening his hold on Dean.

\-----

A tall, blonde beta greets them in the stables, and although Castiel can tell she works in the castle, from her hardy dress and stained apron, she also addresses Dean by name and jokes around with him the same way Charlie and Benny did. Castiel has never seen anything like it, and he wonders if the rest of Dean’s family is treated so familiarly, or if that’s just the aura that Dean casts.

Once Dean has Impala put away and fed, the beta warns them that the Queen is waiting to intercept them in the entryway. Dean curses, again taking Castiel by surprise - if royalty swears at all, they certainly shouldn’t do so in front of the help. At least, not in Castiel’s experience, but then again, he is quickly learning that the royal family of Cielo are not the ultimate example of royal behavior. The rulers of Winchester are clearly, _thankfully_ , of a different mind.

“Can’t you distract her? Tell her there’s a fire in the kitchen or something.”

“Dean,” the beta chastises. “She’s _really_ excited to meet alpha daddy over here. The _entire castle_ is, everybody keeps making excuses to pass through the entryway hoping they’ll get to see him.”

Dean smirks at her. “Except you.” He playfully wags a finger at her, then waves Castiel over. “Your ingenuity pays off again. Jess, this is Cas. Cas,” and here he reaches up to pull Castiel’s hood off, the girl’s smile widening as she takes in Castiel’s face, “this is Jess. She’ll probably be in charge of you.”

“ _Definitely_ in charge of him,” Jess corrects, at the same time Castiel sputters, “ _In charge_ of me?”

“There’s a lot going on in the castle,” Dean explains. “It’s a big place, too. At least until you figure out the schedule and the rooms, Jess is gonna help you get around on time. And take care of your bedding and clothes and all that stuff.”

“And bathtime,” Jess adds with a wink. Dean rolls his eyes, then gently pushes Castiel forward.

“Speaking of which, that’s why I wanted you to distract Mom. You can’t even smell him like this, and that’s tragic.”

Castiel blushes, even though Jess scowls and reminds Dean, “I wouldn’t be able to smell him anyway.”

Dean grins. “Good. Less competition.”

“Like I’m stupid enough to get between a pregnant omega and his alpha.” Jess sighs and shakes her head. “ _You_ go distract your mom, and I’ll try to get Cas to his room through the kitchen stairway.”

“That’ll just expose him to _more_ people-”

Jess reaches over to pull Castiel’s hood up again, grinning, and Castiel realizes just how tall she is. She could easily pass for an alpha at this height, if it weren’t for her cream and snow scent. Betas always smell clean and subtle; an alpha would be muskier, an omega sweeter.

“None of those people will be royalty,” Jess assures him. “And with the cloak, no one else we encounter will see his face.” She smiles at Castiel, patting his cheek. “Don’t worry, we’ll have you looking like a prince before anyone else gets to see that handsome face.”

Castiel ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. Dean laughs and nudges him with an elbow. “Like a prince, huh? Good practice.”

“ _Dean._ ”

“Okay, okay.” Dean lifts his hands in surrender, but he’s still grinning charmingly. “We’ll talk about the prince and baby stuff at dinner. For now, I leave you in Jess’s capable hands so that I can get cleaned up.”

Jess claps said hands together, then gestures for Castiel to follow her around the back. As he does, he glances back over his shoulder at Dean, who gives him a small smile and waves, mouthing the words ‘See you soon,’ before he slips out the front gate. Jess grabs Castiel’s wrist, and she laughs when he startles.

“You’re not walking to your death,” she teases, guiding him out a back opening that leads almost directly to a small, wooden door at the castle’s base. She unlocks and opens this door, leading him into the warm hustle and bustle of the kitchens.

It’s flooded with people, most of them either shouting or running. Jess stays close to the wall, so Castiel follows her lead, reaching up to clutch his hood tight around his head. He hasn’t been around this many people in _years_ , and it’s more than a little overwhelming. Luckily, Jess seems to be in her element: no one glances at him twice since he’s with her, and soon enough, they’re out of the kitchen and in a quiet staircase.

Castiel takes a deep breath, and Jess smiles at him. “It’s a little crazy, I know, but you get used to it.”

Castiel blinks, following her as she starts to climb the stairs. “Dean didn’t tell you where he found me?”

Jess shrugs, tucking a lock of blonde hair back in her bonnet. “I heard most of the story from Sam, actually, and considering how upset he was by it, all I’m gonna take away is that Dean got knocked up by an alpha somewhere.” She glances back to show him her grin. “Sam gets a little protective of Dean, so you’re lucky you got me first. I’m more willing to trust Dean’s judgement.”

She opens another door that leads into a bright, empty hallway. The windows look out onto a beautiful courtyard, but Castiel hardly has time to look at it, hurrying to keep up with Jess. “So where are you from?” she asks.

“Dean found me in the forest,” Castiel answers, and Jess sends him a strange look, as if to say that she knows he didn’t actually answer her question, but she’s willing to ignore it for now.

“By yourself?”

“Yes.”

She glances at him again, clearly annoyed by his unwillingness to give her real answers. But, soon enough, she’s smiling again. “Then this will be quite an adjustment for you. There’s a whole team of worker and servants and cooks and knights and scholars who are in and out of the castle all the time.”

Castiel hesitates, but finally decides that maybe a taste of real information (real gossip) might get her on his side. “It won’t take long to get used to it again.” When she looks at him, eyebrows raised, he clarifies, “I lived in a castle once.”

She blinks, chewing on her lower lip. “You’re not a prince, are you?”

“No?”

“Oh, good!” She laughs, reaching to take his wrist again, directing him down another hallway. “If you were a prince, well… His Majesty might be more willing to let you mate Dean if you were, but then you’d have to take him to your kingdom, and nobody wants that.”

“Really?” Castiel is genuinely curious about this. The villagers did seem to love Dean, and it’s clear that he’s close to people of all sorts within the castle as well. But that’s not the same thing as wanting an omega for a king, so Castiel can’t help wondering if the current king really is on the outs about this.

“Of course!” Jess waves at another servant who passes them with a look of surprise on his face. “He’ll pretend otherwise, but Dean knows all about the kingdom’s history and its laws. Beyond that, he’s kind, and he cares about his people. He’s the one who convinced his father to allow the refugees to work in the castle!”

“Refugees?”

“From Cielo.”

Castiel stops walking. Jess jerks to a stop as well, still holding onto his arm, and frowns at him in confusion. “What’s the matter?”

“There are people from Cielo here?”

Jess’s eyebrows climb towards her hairline before she smiles and scoffs. “Oh, yeah, I know, you’ve probably heard all the bad things, but the refugees are all omegas. They’re great people. Oh!” Her attention turns towards someone standing behind Castiel, and he slowly turns to see who has joined them. “Like Hannah! She’s a refugee, and she’s working with Dean during the pregnancy, so you’ll really get to know how wonderful she is.”

If she says anything else, Castiel doesn’t hear it. _Hannah_. He remembers Hannah.

And from the surprised look on her face after she peers under his hood, she remembers him too.

“ _You_ ,” she whispers, clutching a book tight to her chest. Castiel swallows and glances at Jess, who only stares at Hannah.

“Do you know each other?”

When Hannah opens her mouth, Castiel catches her eye and gives her a minute shake of his head. She falters briefly, but quickly manages to smile, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “The baby’s father, of course. Who else could it be, with that scent?” She loses her breath, then finally takes a few more steps down the hall. “You’ll have to excuse me, I’m a little busy, but I do hope we can have the chance to talk more later?” She hesitates, then puts the smile back on. “About Dean and the baby, of course.”

Her blue eyes are genuinely hopeful, inferring other discussions she wishes to have. Castiel sighs. “Of course. I look forward to it.”

Hannah nods once, then turns and continues on her way down the hall. Castiel turns back to Jess, who’s studying him suspiciously.

“How does she know what you smell like?” she asks.

Castiel frowns. “Excuse me?”

Jess gestures at his dirty clothes and skin, hidden under the cloak. “Dean said he couldn’t smell you ‘cause of the mud. So how could _Hannah_ smell you?”

Castiel opens his mouth, then closes it and looks back towards the window. There are people out in the courtyard, dressed in wine-red robes and casting spells between them, laughing and teasing one another. Jess lets the silence drag on for a long moment before sighing.

“A piece of advice, from me to you? Secrets and mystery don’t go over well here. The royal family values trust and loyalty, and keeping things from them will just make His Majesty dislike you even more.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Castiel says, though he’s more concerned about Dean than the king. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to start sharing pieces of himself with the prince. They’re going to have a child together, after all- it would be good to spend the remaining months of Dean’s pregnancy getting to know one another.

“And don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

Castiel turns away from the window to see Jess walking away, towards yet another door that leads to yet another staircase. “Tell anyone what?”

Jess turns to give him an angelic smile. “That you’re from Cielo.”

Castiel raises his eyebrows, taken aback. This girl is too clever for someone who must spend her days washing clothes and baking bread.

Still, he huffs a quiet thank you, pulling his hood tighter around his face as if to protect himself from his memories. “I don’t wish to discuss it just yet.”

Sadness ekes into Jess’s scent as they start up the new staircase, but she won’t look Castiel in the eye until he reaches over to gently take her hand. “I’m sorry,” she says with a soft laugh. “It’s just… the refugees are always like that too. If you’re an alpha and you feel that way, then… it must be a truly terrible place.”

She has no idea.

But Castiel doesn’t want to be the one to shatter her innocence. Instead, he tries to smile and change the subject, asking about the day’s schedule and what he should expect to eat for dinner. Jess seems to appreciate this, her smile quickly becoming more natural, her eyes brightening, and her hands starting to move excitedly as she speaks.

Once they finally reach Castiel’s room, high in a tower, she pauses outside his door and turns to fix him with a curious stare. “Y’know,” she says, “even if you are from Cielo and being all mysterious and secretive about it, I think I see why Dean likes you so much.”

Castiel doesn’t even know where to start with that sentence. “Beg pardon?”

But Jess only grins and unlocks the door. “Let’s hope your bath water’s not too cold!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: We'll meet the royal family! 
> 
> I mentioned this in some comment replies, but if it's okay with everyone, it'd be easier for me to try and update more often with shorter chapters. By which I mean, 5-10k, hopefully more often 7-8k (like this one). Since I started writing fic again I've been pushing myself to hit at least 10k a chapter, but this fic is really about me having fun and not stressing myself out, so again, as long as it's okay with you guys! That's what I'd like to do :)
> 
> Let me know what you think in a comment, or by sending me a message [on tumblr](http://someoneworthfinding.tumblr.com)! This fic is slowly starting to figure itself out, but I don't have anything set in stone yet, so if there's anything you'd like to see, you can let me know that too!


	3. Cobaea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is un-edited and un-beta'd, sorry for any mistakes! I'll fix them later, if I can!

Dean gets his first whiff of honey and roses as he’s on his way to collect Castiel for dinner. The smell hits him like a brick, and the physical reaction is instant: his muscles relax, his body goes warm, and a goofy smile stretches across his face. He can feel himself getting slick too, and even though he subconsciously continues walking forwards, it takes a few more moments for him to realize how much further he has to go before he reaches Castiel’s rooms. The scent is far stronger than it has any business being, almost as if Castiel is in a rut.

Dean’s omega instincts perk up at the thought of helping Cas through a rut, but as he starts up the last staircase, he pushes those thoughts away. It’s impossible for Cas to be in a rut; he was totally placid and sweet just a few hours ago, and Dean has spent enough time surrounded by alphas to know how badly they behave when there’s a rut on the horizon. Tempers, possessiveness, snarling and growling, and lots of other things that are the exact opposite of how Cas was earlier.

Not to mention, Cas should be pretty much unable to rut for a little while. He’s put a bun in Dean’s oven already, scented said bun on Dean the whole ride back to Winchester, so his instincts should be pretty satisfied with the whole baby-making thing. To be fair, Dean’s not sure if that’s exactly how it works - he knows about certain other nobles who seem to be perfectly capable of running from one omega to the next, knocking each one up in succession. And he wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to locking himself in Cas’s room and getting knotted for a few hours.

Hell, that sounds a lot more fun than this super-awkward family dinner they need to get to.

But when he finally reaches Castiel’s door, the scent is pungent and concentrated, enough to make Dean dizzy, but there’s no extra musk or muted alpha come smells that give away rut. Castiel’s scent is just really heavy, for whatever reason. Maybe it’s just in Dean’s head.

Dean takes a deep breath, and knocks on the door, still grinning stupidly. He’s surprised, then, when Jess is the one who opens the door; Cas’s smell is so strong that it’s completely overpowered hers.

“Oh, good,” says Jess, “you can help me finish.”

Her blonde hair is falling out of her bonnet in long, curly tendrils, and her face is flushed pink with exertion. Dean laughs softly as he steps inside. “Cas is being a troublemaker?”

She exhales roughly. “He’s _shy_! Wouldn’t let me near him while he bathed, wanted to dress himself, then got all tangled up in the laces…” She rolls her eyes when Dean laughs again. “You guys are so easy, but he just won’t let me help him with anything until it’s too late.”

“Well, what did you expect? He’s been living on his own for gods-know how long-”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” comes Castiel’s voice, dripping with annoyance. Dean grins anyway, and gently pushes past Jess to seek his alpha out.

Cas is situated near the open window, in front of a full-length mirror that gives Dean a perfect view of both Castiel’s shapely backside, and his front draped in exquisite clothes. It’s all black and silver, which aren’t the colors Dean would have chosen, but they’re certainly regal; it’s almost as if Castiel can’t help standing up a little straighter in shiny black boots, or holding his freshly-shaven chin a little higher in his new high-collared doublet. Jess even tried to tame his hair, and now it curls sweetly against his forehead and around his ears.

Despite all this, Castiel is still pouting at the mirror as if it has personally offended him, so Dean chuckles to himself and goes to wrap an arm around Cas’s waist. “Hey there, Prince Charming, what’s new?”

Castiel turns to look at Dean, subtly scenting him. To Dean’s surprise, Castiel’s smell immediately eases, losing some of its potency, as Cas smiles slightly and responds, “I think _you’re_ Prince Charming in this story.”

“Well, you _were_ secluded out there in the woods,” Dean teases, “but there weren’t any dragons guarding you, so unfortunately, it looks like you’re not a damsel in distress, and we’re not living a fairy tale.”

Castiel’s smile widens as he closes his eyes. It looks as though he’s considering something, so Dean waits patiently for him to speak, but all he gets is, “A dragon would have been a nice companion. They’re very interesting creatures.”

Dean’s curiosity gets the better of him: “Have you met any dragons?”

“Once.” Castiel tilts his head. “She was very intellectual, and much more generous than one would expect, considering the gossip. I’ve been a great defender of dragons since meeting her.”

Dean’s not sure how to respond to that. Cas is a weird little alpha. Jess appears next to him, her mouth open in surprise, eyes darting between Dean and Cas as if trying to decide if they’re in cahoots against her.

After a moment, Castiel continues, “Still, dragons can be condescending, and they do like to claim things that aren’t necessarily their own. I’d prefer your company any day, Dean.”

Dean blushes bright red as Jess hides a titter behind her hand. Castiel just smiles that subtle smile when Dean says, “Yeah, and the heat had nothing to do with that.”

“It had something to do with it,” Cas admits, “but not everything.”

Dean clears his throat and adjusts his collar, turning to Jess instead. “I’ll take him down to the dining hall. You’re done for the night.”

She pouts, putting her hands on her hips. “And who’s going to take him back up here?”

“Me?” Dean answers, at the same time Castiel says, “I can handle it on my own.”

Jess grins outright, tucking her hands in the pockets of her apron. “Yeah, I seriously doubt either of those things are going to happen.” She winks before turning towards the door, “Good luck, you two. You’re gonna need it.”

She closes the door behind her, and Dean knew he liked that girl for a reason. Immediately, he reaches up to grab Castiel’s collar and pull him in for a kiss. He laughs softly against Castiel’s lips when the alpha’s smell ramps up again, muskier this time, speaking to his desire, but as soon as Castiel wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, drawing him closer, the laughter disappears.

They only have half an hour before dinner, and most of that time will be spent making their way to the dining hall, but Dean still insistently presses himself against Castiel, accepting the sweet, open-mouthed kisses the alpha drops on his lips, wishing they had the time for something more. _This_ is what Dean wanted when he saw Castiel’s cottage again: to be swept up and adored. Sure, they really don’t know that much about each other, and Dean is well aware that Cas knows more about him than he knows about Cas, but the _magic_ that lights up between them…! The way they stumbled upon each other, how Castiel doesn’t seem to mind Dean’s un-omega-like quirks, and okay, Cas is kind of a weird alpha, but his weirdness is adorable, and Dean still hopes beyond hope that he can keep him.

From the way Castiel’s hand is clutching at his arm, maybe he wants to keep Dean too.

Unfortunately, the way to achieve that is not through locking themselves away and having passionate sex until they pass out while tied together. Dean gently pushes Castiel away, but allows himself to take a deep breath, relishing the powerful scent of roses and daisies and honey. “You smell incredible,” he mumbles, taking a large step back in an attempt to discourage himself from taking what he wants. He’d _missed_ that smell, but he doesn’t dare say so. “And it’s so strong right now.”

Castiel sighs and rolls his eyes. “I went into rut a few days after you left, and my scent never went down. It’s so heavy _I_ can smell it.”

_Oh_. “So the mud earlier…”

“Allows me to hunt, yes. I usually do that anyway, but never quite so thoroughly before that rut.” Castiel sighs, completely unaware of how put out Dean is that he missed that opportunity. “I think my instincts were aggravated by your heat- they were hoping to attract you into coming back.”

“And getting knocked up?” Dean grins, placing both hands on his belly. “Too late!”

Castiel laughs, but Dean doesn’t miss the flash of panic in those pretty blue eyes. Something about the puppy has Cas all wound up, but Dean can’t really blame him for that. He’s sure that, as the due date approaches, he’ll start panicking as well, but so far, he hasn’t really let himself think beyond the immediate and the positive. As in, getting to see Cas again, opening up the potential for a relationship, for mating someone who actually likes him for something beyond his beauty and his second gender.

The baby is something to deal with a few months from now. Right now, Cas has to win over the royal family.

“ _Shit_ , dinner, we’re gonna be late,” Dean snaps, grabbing Castiel’s arm and dragging him out to the staircase. He can hear Cas laughing behind him, so once they reach the main hall, he slows down a little, sliding his hand down to interlace his fingers with Castiel’s. Now it’s just a casual stroll, hand-in-hand, and Castiel’s laughter has faded into an uncertain-but-pleased little smile.

The hustle and bustle of the castle at work carries on around them as they silently walk towards the dining hall. Most of the servants stop to gawk, but Dean expected that - gossip travels fast, and he’s sure there’s been a lot of curiosity about Prince Dean’s Puppy Daddy. Castiel keeps his eyes on the floor, apparently unnerved by the staring, and Dean feels a little guilty about putting him in this situation. Going from living alone, surrounded by flowers and silence, to being surrounded by noisy, nosy people has to be an adjustment.

Dean squeezes Castiel’s hand, drawing his attention, and tries to distract him. “I don’t even know how old you are.”

Castiel manages a weak smile. “Too old for you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, but it is.” He turns his gaze back to the intricate carpet under their feet. “I was already serving a king when you picked up your first sword.”

Dean frowns, rolling his eyes. “You don’t know that-”

“And by the time you went into your first heat, I was probably already out on my own.”

“I was thirteen when I presented.”

“Oh,” Castiel sounds a little surprised, “that’s younger than most. But I’m not too far off - I was twenty-five when I left home.”

Dean still doesn’t have enough information to figure out the difference, so he makes a frustrated noise and tugs on Castiel’s hand. “And how long ago was that?”

Finally, the alpha smiles, and though it’s small, it still reaches his eyes, and Dean considers that a victory. “Seven years.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. Seven years is a long time to be so isolated. It’s impressive that Castiel has managed to keep his mind for so long, though he supposes the animals helped a little. Dean’s still not really sure if he believes Castiel is _really_ able to talk to animals or not, but if that’s the only thing wrong with him after seven years, then Dean won’t complain. At least it means that might Cas better understand Dean’s devotion to his horse.

Then he realizes the second part of it. Seven plus twenty-five is, “You’re thirty-two years old?”

“Almost thirty-three, I believe.” Castiel glances around, as if looking for something. “It is late summer, correct?”

“Yeah?”

“I was born in early fall, so yes, close enough to thirty-three to claim it.”

That’s eleven years between them. Not so bad, considering Dean’s father has been introducing him to alphas more than twice his age. It actually might work in Cas’s favor - he’s older, he’s experienced, he might even be willing to take up a sword again… the less room the King has to argue against Cas, the better Dean’s chances of mating someone he actually _likes_.

Dean leads them off to the main staircase, and they’re only moments away from the dining hall now. They might even be on time, if they hurry, so Dean hastens his steps, only to be jerked back when Castiel suddenly stops walking.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asks quietly. There are still servants running around, yelling orders at each other, pretending they’re not paying attention to the prince and his new companion, but Dean still steps forward and cups Castiel’s chin in his hands. “Don’t be nervous, this is just-”

He trails off when Castiel’s eyes meet his own. There’s something sad in Castiel’s gaze, something like longing or regret, and Dean just wants to nuzzle into Castiel’s neck and hold him until that emotion goes away. Snuggle up in a nest and let Castiel scent him and relax and slowly fall asleep in his arms.

But there’s no time for that, and there’s no time to figure out what brought this on. So Dean leans forward to gift Cas with a tiny kiss on his forehead, then drops his hands to give Castiel’s arms an encouraging squeeze.

“I’ll be right there next to you the whole time,” Dean whispers, smiling. Castiel doesn’t smile back, but he nods slowly, and takes Dean’s hand when it’s offered. There’s a hint of sadness in his scent, rather than fear, but Dean figures they can come back to that after this fiasco is over; if the King scents fear, he’ll jump all over it, so anything is better than that.

They can see the light glowing from the dining hall when the Queen catches up with them. She’s a vision in blue silk, with blonde curls hiding her ears. Dean finds himself relaxing as soon as he catches her clean beta scent, peppermint and cream, and she smiles up at him, glancing back at Castiel, who merely regards her with curiosity. She’s wearing a hood instead of her tiara, so Dean gestures between them. “Cas, this is my mom, Mary. Mom, this is Cas.”

Castiel freezes, and makes a stiff attempt at an apologetic bow, but Mary just laughs and shakes her head, reaching to touch the alpha’s face. “No need for formalities, Cas.” Her eyes briefly dart to Dean, a smirk on her lips. “You’re family now.”

Dean grins as Mary leaves a kiss between Castiel’s eyes, and the alpha takes a deep breath, lines of confusion still lingering on his forehead. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he manages to say, running a hand through his hair and ruining all of Jess’s hard work. “I’m sorry it had-”

He stops when Mary holds up a hand. “Don’t apologize, please. I’ve been struggling to convince my husband to allow Dean to stay, and you have provided several solid arguments.” A strange smile stretches her face. “It’s easier to talk about how grandpups might be raised when one is on the way. Or how strange alphas may treat my son when there’s one living in our home.” This last comes with a hint of a threat, and Dean thinks it’s funny how Castiel is cowed by his beta mother. But it also speaks well of him that he’s willing to defer to her as Queen, and as Dean’s mother, regardless of her beta status. A lot of alphas would sneer at that - most of Dean’s suitors have avoided or ignored Mary, preferring to deal with the alpha king.

Mary never took that very well.

So she smiles at Castiel’s bowed head, nods at Dean, then tucks her arm under Castiel’s. “Come along. John is already waiting for us.”

Bootsteps echo from the other end of the darkened hallway, just as they’re approaching the dining hall entrance. Sam appears, all but crashing into Dean, with his face flushed and sweaty and collar askew. Dean raises both eyebrows and grins.

“Well don’t let us ruin your fun, Sammy,” he teases. Mary tuts, reaching over to fix Sam’s jacket, while the younger prince scowls.

“I got caught up _studying_ , Dean,” he argues.

Dean shrugs. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.” He pats his belly and winks at Cas. “I must be getting full marks.”

Castiel actually blushes and ducks his head, much to Dean’s delight. Sam’s declaration of, “Gross, Dean!” is just the icing on the cake.

While Mary is working on Sam’s clothes, Dean notices his brother sniffing the air and eyeing Castiel warily. So he reaches over to slap his brother’s shoulder, saying, “Sam, this is puppy daddy. Cas, this is snot-nosed brother.”

“Dean,” the alphas chastise in unison, but even Mary laughs at that, so Dean just grins and squeezes Cas’s arm. Mary ruffles Sam’s hair affectionately, then takes his arm when he politely offers it. In these pairs, they finally enter the great hall for dinner.

 

\-----

 

The only thing keeping Castiel from turning tail and running away back to his cottage, is Dean’s hand in his own.

Well, Dean’s scent helps too. The little smiles that keep getting sent his way. How Dean had joked with his mother and brother and broke the tension, so Castiel wouldn’t feel so out of place. More and more, Castiel is discovering that Dean is a good man, and it makes him happy that such a good man is carrying his pup.

So although meeting the royal family of Winchester is nerve-wracking, to say the least, Castiel is enamored enough with Dean that he will try and brave this. Mary seems friendly enough, and though Sam is wary, he hasn’t done more than glance suspiciously at Castiel. This can’t go too badly. Right?

But as they approach the table, Castiel notices a large, bearded man is already seated at the head. He smells of fir trees and cloves, and he glances up as the rest of them approach the table, eyes immediately settling on Castiel.

Now there’s tension. Two grown alphas staring one another down, one of them bristling and sending out a threatening smell, while Castiel tries not to react either way. Threatening the king, even just with a scent, is a surefire way to get a rope around your neck, but at the same time, Castiel can’t be a coward and defer. He has to prove himself worthy to be Dean’s mate, and the kind of alpha who would immediately bare his neck and yield is certainly not worthy to protect a family.

Carefully, Castiel bows, keeping his expression neutral, and allows Dean to introduce him. “Dad, this is Castiel,” and Dean sounds nervous, so Castiel tries not to let that make _him_ nervous. “He’s, well… where the puppy came from. Cas-”

“So you want to mate my son?” John says gruffly, still staring Castiel down. At this point, Castiel honestly doesn’t know what John is trying to protect. His family? His throne? His lineage? He doesn’t elaborate, so while Mary and Sam slip away to take their seats on the other side of the table, Castiel gathers his thoughts.

“I would like the opportunity to prove myself, your Highness,” Castiel answers, keeping his voice even. “The prince is carrying my child, so I want to be part of their lives. That is what a good alpha does.”

Dean sends him a strange look, but before Castiel can attempt to decipher it, John is laughing, shaking his head.

“‘Good alphas’ don’t take advantage of omegas in heat.”

Castiel finally bristles. Across the table, Mary hisses, “ _John_ ,” and forces a smile when the alpha king silently turns back to the table. “Please have a seat, Castiel. I’ll try to keep him in line.”

John sends her a glare, but Castiel follows Dean’s lead, slipping into one of the ornate wooden chairs in front of him. He’s stuck next to the king, of course, but Dean is on his other side, and when Castiel takes a deep breath to center himself, he’s able to scent the prince, which brings him comfort and courage. There’s a thick, sweeter note to Dean’s scent now, thanks to the baby, and it reminds Castiel why he’s here, and why he wants to defend himself to King John.

He can do this.

Servants start to bring out the first course, and Castiel waits patiently for a prayer, or a blessing, but the family starts eating as soon as the soup is placed in front of them. Surprised, Castiel can only watch them, and for the first time he wonders if John is a usurper - these people have none of the cold politeness of the royal family in Cielo, and while John is clearly the decision-maker and alpha-in-charge, he barely gets any sort of regard for that position. Dean is actively undermining him, with his mother’s help, and although Sam is an alpha, he has, strangely enough, refused to be John’s heir.

The way Dean speaks has a distinctly common flavor too, now that Castiel thinks about it. That might be why he never once considered Dean to be anything other than a lost villager, even with his fancy clothes and beautiful horse. Royalty simply doesn’t talk the way Dean does.

And Castiel wouldn’t look down on them if they were usurpers; he’s seen with his own eyes how loved Dean is, and what good this family has done even for people who are not their own. Sometimes kings lose their crowns to a better ruler, and that’s the way it should be. At least until a better system comes about, perhaps something where the people could choose their own leaders-

Something digs into his side and he flinches, turning to look at Dean. Dean raises his eyebrows and nods towards Castiel’s untouched bowl. “You know you’re good to eat, right?”

“Oh,” Castiel had been so caught up in his thoughts that he’d forgotten. “Yes, sorry, I just-”

“If you don’t like pea soup, you can send it back,” Dean offers with a smile. “This meal was kind of thrown together, but if you’re gonna stick around, I can give the cook a list of food you like.”

Dean doesn’t see it, but across the table, Mary lowers her spoon and smiles at them. Castiel just tries to ignore the blush rising in his cheeks. “That’s very kind of you, but this is fine.”

It’s awkward. Castiel eats a few spoonfuls of soup, barely tasting it, staring down into the bowl. On his left, Dean is a warm, sweet-smelling presence. On his right, John is tense and still emitting a threatening smell. The entire table is silent except for the clink of silver on porcelain, and the further the quiet stretches, the more awkward Castiel feels.

It’s Mary who saves him. She hums contentedly and sets her spoon down, smiling brightly. She reminds Castiel of Dean in that moment, and moreso when she speaks: “I hope the castle isn’t too confusing for you? I know this must be quite a change from where you were before.”

“The noise is worse than the castle itself,” Castiel answers, offering a smile of his own. John grunts, but Castiel isn’t sure if it’s a laugh or something a bit more dismissive, so he ignores it for now. “It’s been years since I’ve been around so many people. Re-learning how to navigate a castle will be easier than re-learning how to socialize.”

Mary’s eyes light up with interest, at the same time John lifts his head to study Castiel. “You’ve lived in a castle before?” Mary asks, overlapped by John’s gruff demand, “What the hell were you doing on your own for so long anyway?”

Castiel blinks, and all eyes around the table are on him. Sam and John look suspicious, but Mary has her chin resting in her hand, apparently ready for a good story. Dean smiles almost imperceptibly, before turning back to his soup, making himself absolutely no help at all.

“I was a knight, in my youth,” Castiel starts, deciding to focus on the three unknowns at the table. “I fought in a war, and was given a special post with honors. Eventually, I…”

He trails off, thinking of Hannah. Of Anna, his sister that he hasn’t seen in years. He glances down at his hands, turned palms up on either side of his soup bowl, and what little hunger he felt before evaporates as he tries to water down that awful, horrific day into something his potential future in-laws will accept, without completely lying to them.

His silence doesn’t seem to have done him any favors, however. When he looks up again, Sam’s eyes have narrowed, lips pursed almost comically. John is glaring outright. So Castiel clears his throat and continues, “Eventually I realized the post wasn’t that special, or honorable, and I left the kingdom.”

“You abandoned your post and are a traitor to your lord,” John accuses immediately. Dean bristles, but Castiel can only sigh; the king isn’t wrong.

“Now, John,” Mary begins, the very picture of diplomacy, but John shakes his head, pushing his empty bowl away with a grunt.

“Don’t use that beta talk on me, Mary, this is important.” John gestures towards Cas, an angry red tone starting to crawl up his neck. “If it’s so easy for him to walk away from his vows, how can I expect him to remain loyal to Winchester?” The flush spreads across his nose and forehead. “To _Dean_?” He shakes his head, throwing both hands in the air in frustration. “He can’t be a prince of the kingdom if there’s always a chance that he might turn tail and run!”

Castiel actually thinks this is a fair criticism, and despite Dean’s huff of annoyance, he’s about to say so; he figures it can’t hurt to agree with the king in any regard.

But then Mary does something strange. She lifts her head and straightens her back, tightens her jaw and looks John dead in the eye. Even stranger, John actually ducks his head, submitting to her silent display. There’s an unspoken conversation happening here, one that Mary clearly has the upper hand in, but neither prince seems to think this is out of the ordinary, and soon enough, Mary is smiling again, though it doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

“He’s here, and he wishes to be part of Dean and the baby’s life,” she says, and her tone is more than a little bitter when she adds, “That’s more than one could say for _most_ alphas.”

She gives John another piercing look, and Castiel decides two things in that moment: One, this is not his business and he shouldn’t pry; and two, he really hopes Dean didn’t inherit that deadly stare or else Castiel is in big trouble.

Servants come to take their bowls and replace them with plates of steaming hot pork, slathered in some sort of fruit sauce. Castiel is overwhelmed by his first bite; it’s been so long since he was able to have delicacies like this, meat cooked to such perfection that it’s falling apart in his hands, and syrupy sweet sauces that are almost painful on his tongue. He has to take a moment to let his tastebuds settle after the first bite, though he manages a smile when a concerned Dean puts a gentle hand on his arm.

“This kind of food will take some getting used to,” Castiel explains. “You don’t happen to have any gruel, do you?”

It’s a joke, but Dean is the only one who smiles. John grumbles something Castiel doesn’t hear, Mary glares at her husband, and Sam seems more interested in his food than in anything else.

There is no more conversation during this part of the meal, and it gets under Castiel’s skin. He’s so used to eating by himself, listening to the wind in the trees and the crickets singing, that others’ clinking silverware, or shifting in their seats, or even just the sound of chewing is starting to fray his nerves. He needs to either speak or run, and running is seeming more and more like the proper answer. There’s no point to this. The king doesn’t like him, Sam doesn’t trust him, and Mary is just trying to be a peacemaker. Castiel will _never_ be allowed to mate Dean, not when there are rich alphas with titles all over the countryside, chomping at the bit to get a bite of such a handsome omega prince.

But then Castiel glances sideways at Dean, who notices and gives him a sad, apologetic smile, and Castiel melts at the sight of it. The smell of spice and apples hits his nose again, far sweeter and more mouth-watering than the dish in front of him, and Castiel only just stops himself from leaning in to scent Dean’s neck.

There is a point to this, and the point is Dean. Castiel wants to get to know him, earn his love and his father’s respect. He can’t run, or else he proves John’s fears right, and resigns Dean to a future far away from his family and the kingdom he deserves. Castiel is Dean’s only chance. He may be the _puppy’s_ only chance.

Castiel drops his napkin onto his plate, sets his fork aside, and clears his throat. John sighs and rolls his eyes, but he gives Castiel his attention anyway.

“I want to declare my intentions for Dean,” Castiel says. His voice sounds louder than normal, echoing against the high-ceilings. “Is there a tradition for this in Winchester?”

Mary is practically beaming, her hands clasped at her bosom. Sam sends Dean a strange, exasperated look that Castiel doesn’t understand, but Dean just glares at his brother, a clear and silent order to keep his mouth shut.

John just stares at Castiel. For a long stretch of time, Castiel and the king engage in a staring contest, and Castiel only wins by telling himself that he has no reason to be afraid. He asked a simple question, one that makes perfect sense considering the circumstances. John being unhappy with Dean’s predicament is irrelevant.

Finally John turns away and says, “No need for that.”

“No need?”

John nods. “You’re the last resort. If we can find someone with an actual title, who’s willing to mate Dean and take care of the pup, there will be no need for you.”

Behind Castiel, Dean starts to growl, and after a moment, Castiel realizes that he’s growling as well. John raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by this display of mutiny, and turns back to his meal as if he’s done nothing wrong.

“I don’t understand you,” Castiel snaps. Dean’s growl cuts off into a nervous whine, and across the table, Mary whispers Castiel’s name, trying to distract or warn him. But Castiel just waits until John lifts his head and meets his eyes again, before he continues, “Omegas are allowed to be free here, in your kingdom. You offer safety and jobs to omegas who were mistreated elsewhere. Dean’s _healer_ is an omega, and she is treated with the respect she deserves, but the prince is still held to antiquated rules?”

The table is silent. Castiel glances at Sam, who watches him with mild curiosity, before turning back to John. “Why is Dean held to different standards? I’ve only been here for a few hours, and I’ve already seen how well-loved he is by his people, and by those in your employ. He would be a wonderful king if only because he cares, so why are you so eager to send him somewhere else, mated to some strange alpha?”

John tightens his jaw, but doesn’t respond. Sam, however, speaks for the first time since they sat down at the table: “ _You’re_ a strange alpha.”

Dean shoots back, “ _You’re_ a-” but he cuts himself off when Castiel drops a hand over his.

“I won’t take Dean away from Winchester,” Castiel promises, voice soft. “And I would never be half the king he could be.”

Dean smiles at him, and it lights the omega’s face up from the inside. Bright green eyes and sun-kissed freckles make Castiel’s stomach twist and his heart drop, and Dean’s happy scent amplifies, filling the hall with apples and cinnamon and something sticky-sweet. Castiel has enough time to wonder how long it’s been since someone stood up for Dean, before John steals his attention away with a loud, pointed cough.

“As an omega, Dean is good for bridging relationships with other lands,” John says slowly, as if Castiel is some sort of imbecile. “As a prince, his whole existence is political. He can’t do a damn thing without affecting our reputation as rulers, and if he had been an alpha, I would just be trying to find him a suitable companion. There is no difference.”

Dean’s happy smell sours so quickly that Castiel feels ill, and he wonders how it isn’t bothering John the same way. “So if Dean is sent away and Sam needs to rule, you would find Sam an omega prince or princess?”

“Or a beta noblewoman.” John shrugs. “As long as we can make some sort of alliance or trade, and they can produce heirs.”

Now it’s Sam’s smell that sours, and Castiel is having difficulty breathing while John sits, serene as a baby centaur. “What if both of your sons had been omegas, your majesty?”

“They’re not.”

“But what if they _were_?” Castiel pushes, shaking his head in disbelief. “What if you had no choice but to let an omega rule?”

“There are other options,” John answers thinly, pointedly staring at his plate. Mary makes a soft noise and turns her head away, lips pressed tight as if she’s a fairy’s breath away from spilling all her anger onto the table.

Frustrated, Castiel turns to Dean, who stares back at him in surprise, mouth full of pork. “I would like to court you, Dean, if that’s alright with you.”

Dean swallows, eyes still wide. “Um. Sure.”

“And if things go well, we could get mated.”

Slowly, Dean starts to grin. “Hell, yeah.”

“And I’ll take care of you and the pup, whether you wear a crown or not.”

Dean’s smile softens into something shy. “Okay. Yeah, um. That sounds great.”

John, however, disagrees. He snaps his fingers, summoning a pretty beta to his side. “Lisa, would you escort Castiel back to his room, please.”

It’s a rude, flagrant dismissal, and even Lisa seems flustered when Dean points out that dinner’s hardly over and he can take Castiel back when they’re done. John actually growls at this, at his own son, and Castiel has to stand up and declare that he wasn’t very hungry anyway before turning to follow Lisa towards the darkened halls.

He pauses in the entryway, glancing over his shoulder at the table. Mary and John are engaged in a heated, whispered argument, but this is ignored by both of their sons. Sam has made his way around the table to sit next to Dean, and the princes sit silently together, watching Castiel leave. The corner of Dean’s lips turns up, and when he lifts his hand in a tiny wave, Castiel feels the tension start to eke out of him.

Dean is sweet. Castiel can handle the rest.

Lisa is less conversational than Jess, but her eyes are kind and her smile is friendly. Perhaps she simply understands that silence might be preferable after such an ordeal. Castiel’s not sure what she witnessed, but as he replays the evening in his head, he’s quickly mortified by his own behavior. He stood up to John, _defied_ the king by requesting Dean’s permission to court him instead… this would never have been allowed in Cielo.

To be fair, omegas didn’t eat with alphas in Cielo, so that situation couldn’t have happened in the first place, but still. Castiel took an omega’s word over an alpha’s. An alpha _king_. He’s lucky he wasn’t sent to the hangman.

Thinking of Cielo, Castiel scents the air. Lisa’s scent is clean and beta-neutral, so he says, “You’re not one of the refugees?”

His voice startles her, and the candle wobbles in its holder when she turns to look at him. A smile quickly schools her features as she shakes her head. “No. Thankfully. I grew up here in Winchester.”

Castiel has a million questions in that regard, but he supposes Jess might be able to answer those as well. Instead, he tries, “Do you know many of the refugees?”

“All the ones who have come through the castle.”

“Do you know of a girl named Anna?”

Lisa blinks at him. “From Cielo?”

Castiel nods. “She has red hair, and wide eyes.”

Again, Lisa shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long shot, anyway,” Castiel sighs.

They’re quiet again, for a moment, as they start to climb the staircase. Castiel’s thighs are already starting to ache; he’s not sure he’ll be able to stand going up and down this tower all the time, and he wonders if the royal family have such difficulty getting to their own rooms.

He doubts it.

Lisa asks suddenly, “Are you from Cielo?”

Castiel hesitates. “What makes you think so?”

“You’re asking after an omega refugee, after living out in the woods by yourself for years.” She smiles brightly, the candlelight reflecting laughter in her pretty eyes. “It’s easy to assume.”

Castiel needs to get better at this keeping secrets thing.

“You should tell His Majesty, if you are,” Lisa continues, her tone a little more serious. “There’s a lot of… _talk_ going on, about whether or not he should attack Cielo, especially with all the refugees coming in. So, the king might appreciate your knowledge of the situation.”

This is excellent advice, actually, and once it sinks in, Castiel catches himself smiling back at Lisa. “Thank you. I’ll think about that.”

She winks at him. “Everyone wants Dean to stay, so if you want any help of any kind, all you have to do is ask.”

Castiel actually laughs at this, pleased not to be alone in this passive-aggressive battle against the king, but then they turn a corner, and Lisa stops climbing. Castiel nearly runs into her, and quickly peers up to see what’s wrong.

Hannah stands outside his door, nursing a candle of her own. Lisa narrows her eyes, then glances at Castiel in confusion. She knows all the refugees, and now she knows that Castiel is from Cielo.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Castiel says quickly, meeting Lisa’s eyes. “I swear.”

She stares at him. Hannah shifts uncomfortably, averting her gaze.

“I would like to speak with Hannah alone, however,” Castiel continues. “Thank you for the escort, and I’ll thank you for not spreading needless gossip, either.”

Lisa looks at Hannah again, then nods curtly. “If it becomes more than needless gossip, however, I have no problem spreading it,” she warns, turning to descend the staircase once again. “Sleep well.”

“Good night,” Castiel calls after her, before turning to glare at a properly abashed Hannah. “Are you trying to get me hung? You have to know the king is watching me like a gryphon.”

He slips past Hannah as she stutters an apology, borrowing her candle to light the lanterns around the room, then closing the shutters on the window. “I wasn’t thinking how this visit might look,” Hannah mumbles, putting her hands behind her back. “I apologize.”

Apologies aren’t worth much when John will take any excuse to get Castiel out of the way, but Castiel reminds himself that that’s _John’s_ fault, not Hannah’s. Even with the way John treats Dean, Hannah is definitely treated better here than she was back in Cielo. She’s the prince’s healer! Quite a step up from the work she used to do.

So Castiel sighs and drops the issue with a wave of his hand. “What brings you here tonight?”

Hannah hesitates, glancing around the room. There’s not much to look at, however, so she stares at the floor as she speaks, “I’m glad to finally have the opportunity to thank you for what you did.”

Castiel stares.

“Those of us who came here,” she continues, “we discuss it often, how we wished to see you again just to thank you. We never thought we’d have the opportunity.”

She’s smiling, her eyes glowing with gratitude, but all Castiel can see is red. Blood red on silk sheets and lacey curtains, the sharp scents of violence and omega fear and distress. Red on his hands, his breath coming short, his heart pounding in his ears and drowning out the sound of screams. The red of Anna’s hair as he yells at her to go and not look back, as he guides a group of skinny, frightened omegas out into open air. There’s red everywhere, the night sky tinted red, and Castiel’s not sure what happened but the omegas disappeared while his ears were ringing, and-

Castiel closes his eyes, brings his hands to his face, and forces himself to take a deep breath. Hannah’s crisp, strawberry scent breaks through, and Castiel’s heartbeat starts to slow.

It’s been a very long time since he allowed himself to think about that night.

When he opens his eyes, Hannah is watching him with concern, but she’s stayed several feet away, her body poised to run, and Castiel chuckles to himself. However grateful she is, she remembers exactly how he freed her too.

“Are you alright?” Hannah asks, taking a small step forward.

Castiel bows his head and sweeps his arms out to the side. “It’s under control. Please don’t be afraid.” She’s smart to still keep her distance, even as her body relaxes, and Castiel doesn’t hold it against her. “Who else is here?” he asks, keeping his voice soft.

“Daniel lives in the village with his mate now,” Hannah answers. “Inias and Hester own a shop in town. Rachel, Muriel, and Hael still work in the castle. We are all… very satisfied.” Her tone of voice suggests that they’re far beyond satisfaction, but Castiel can understand the need to understate. The happier you are, the easier it is to lose that happiness, and these omegas know that better than anyone. Satisfaction is something to celebrate too, after all they’ve been through.

So Castiel smiles and responds, honestly: “I’m glad.”

Hannah gives him a small smile as well. “They would love to see you. When you’re ready, of course.”

Castiel nods, as he would be happy to see them all again as well. Still, he can’t help being a little disappointed: there were at least a dozen omegas present that night, including his own sister, so he can only wonder as to where they are and how they’re doing. Hopefully they all managed to find a better home than Cielo.

He wants to ask if she knows anything of home, if Michael and Lucifer are still ruling together or if they’ve been overthrown by Raphael, or if one has begun to dominate the other, or perhaps better news… but they’re interrupted by a knock at the door. Hannah glances at him, and with a defeated sigh, Castiel gestures for her to go ahead and answer it. Whoever it is is going to think what they think, and Castiel can handle the fallout.

But then Hannah swings the door open, and Dean is standing there, the smile on his face slowly transforming into confusion as he attempts to process what he’s seeing.

Castiel groans and falls back onto his bed. Fantastic. This is _exactly_ what he needs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay! This time of year sucks for me because I work in retail, but it's been worse this year because of other shit going on. In fact I got called in early today, so I'm sort of in a rush to post haha. No need to go into it, because this fic is my happy place :) I hope you guys liked it! 
> 
> Next chapter: Sexy times, possessiveness, and a late night trip to the village. See you soon!

**Author's Note:**

> So if you're wondering why the last chapter of Young Volcanoes part 4 is taking so long, well, this is half the reason. But! It's also keeping me from tearing my hair out because sometimes I take YV too seriously, and this fic is just pure indulgent porny tropey fun. It's a nice break :) 
> 
> As I said above, I really don't have a solid outline for this story. I have ideas, but I'm still hammering them out. We'll see how this goes! 
> 
> The mpreg and pup/baby stuff kicks off next chapter! Let me know what you think with a comment, or come say hi [on tumblr](http://someoneworthfinding.tumblr.com)! :)


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